So I Will Try, Not To Cry, and No One Needs To Say Goodbye
by silver-nightstorm
Summary: A collection of HP oneshots and drabbles written in the Summer of 2013. Individual chapter summaries and characters listed in the AN at the beginning of Chapter 1. Chapter 18 - Kelly Merrill has a theory about Oliver Wood and Draco Malfoy, and she goes into full reporter mode to get the scoop. The last installment of this summer collection
1. Seems Right

**Chapter 1** (scroll down :D)** - Seems Right - **Eleven-year-old Lucy Weasley has a chat with the Sorting Hat.

**Chapter 2 - Your Most Loyal Lieutenant, -** It was painfully obvious that to herself that she was faking her madness, but as the days turned to weeks and months and years, she couldn't help the doubt that slowly crept into her heart. Would He ever come to get her? Or did He have an even greater plan? Onesided Bellamort.

**Chapter 3 - He Is Worth It -** You fall in love with him from afar and then you learn who he really is. But despite everything, you can't help but want to save him. OC / Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr.

**Chapter 4 - Every Night - **Every night, Draco Malfoy couldn't sleep. And every night, he would return to the place where he reached the point of no return. And every night, he would marvel at how easy it was to simply… jump. Draco Malfoy Angst.

**Chapter 5 - Simply a Matter of the Heart - **As time goes by, details are discarded and motives are twisted. And no motives were twisted as much as those of Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin. Theirs wasn't a quarrel over blood purity. Theirs was a quarrel over a woman. Slytherin/Ravenclaw.

**Chapter 6 - No Strings Attached -** It wasn't until she blurted it out that she realized the painful truth behind her words. Alice/Frank Longbottom.

**Chapter 7 - All He Could Do - **All he could do was hold her and hope things would get better. All he could do was silently promise he would keep fighting for her. Neville/Hannah.

**Chapter 8 - Broken - **They marveled at his reckless courage in antagonizing the Carrows. What they didn't realize was that he had lost the will to live. Seamus/Dean.

**Chapter 9 - Loyalty - **He challenged all of her notions of loyalty when he saved her. She knew he must have ulterior motives but she felt safe around him despite knowing better. Blaise/Parvati.

**Chapter 10 - Courage of a Dragon (Tamer) - **He was a dragon tamer and she was a dragon. Charlie/Parvati.

**Chapter 11 - Lost - **She was lost to him, lost in a pile of memories, and all he had left was a pounding headache when he tried to remember her goodbye. Severus/Lily.

**Chapter 12 - Doubled - **Just another moment in the day-to-day life of Victoire Weasley. Teddy/Victoire.

**Chapter 13 - A Coffee Sometime - **It took three meetings until she finally acquired the coffee she was promised. Oliver/Parvati.

**Chapter 14 - Charms - **Because sometimes, it's the simplest of things that motivate one to keep moving forward. For them, it was her bracelet. Draco/Astoria.

**Chapter 15 - Applicant TONKS, NYMPHADORA - **The Auror Applicant Review Board gets a sterling recommendation for applicant TONKS, NYMPHADORA.

**Chapter 16 - Everyone's Type - **Somewhere in the course of her denial, a little part of her mind (the same part that insisted Mister Francis Delacour was _everyone's_ type) admitted that she had most certainly been swept off her feet (because why else would she spend so much time on the subject?). fem!Bill/male!Fleur

**Chapter 17 - The Little Red Werewolf Hunter - **In a world where Wolfsbane doesn't exist, Parvati Patil is the best Hunter of werewolves there is until a kind wolf makes her rethink all her beliefs. A sorta twist on little red riding hood.

**Chapter 18 - A Theory -** Kelly Merrill has a theory about Oliver Wood and Draco Malfoy, and she goes into full reporter mode to get the scoop.

**XX**

_Eleven-year-old Lucy Weasley has a chat with the Sorting Hat._

**Seems Right**

**By silver-nightstorm**

**Words: 524**

**XX**

Lucy Weasley swung her legs back and forth on the wooden stool causing it to slide slightly on the polished wooden floor. She caught Molly's reassuring wink from the Hufflepuff table just before Professor Longbottom dropped the hat on her head and it slipped down over her eyes turning her world black. A voice rang out right next to her ears and prepared though she was (though Fred impishly insisted there was troll wrestling involved in sorting, Molly had the decency to tell her the truth), she still jumped slightly.

"Another Weasley, eh? I can't just put you lot in Gryffindor anymore. First you multiply like rabbits and now you decide to have personalities, what's a poor hat to do? Moreover, you seem rather jumpy for the house of bravery."

She giggled at the hat's words. "They never told me you were funny!"

"I doubt that one cousin of yours told you much truth at all. Slytherin through and through, that Fred is! Quite like his namesake."

"He told me you were a troll I had to wrestle," she said, as she remembered the hat's original comment. "I think it's possible to still be brave if you're jumpy."

If the Sorting Hat had eyebrows, it would have raised them at this point. Without pausing to answer Lucy's question, it shot back one of its own. "What house do _you_ want to be in?"

Lucy frowned. "Molly never told me you asked her. You just sorted her."

The hat seemed to chuckle and took a few moments to reply. "You're quite unique, and your noggin is rather interesting. You're special, Miss Weasley."

"Don't give me the 'you're the only blonde Weasley ever, the only non-redhead!' rubbish. Hat or not, that'd be rude and rather foolish."

"It's not the hair, though the hair is quite lovely."

Lucy blushed ever so slightly, self-consciously smoothing her blonde bobbed curls.

The hat continued. "It's simply because you're _you_. I've only ever asked five people that question, and you're related to one of them. Your cousin, Albus Severus."

"Did you sort him by his choice?"

The hat paused for a long moment. "No one has asked me that, strangely enough. But yes, for him I did. But what about you?"

Lucy paused for a very long time, and she sat there and thought. And as she thought, time went by slower and slower in the Great Hall as students almost fell asleep for the longest stall in the last century. Finally, she replied.

"I'm eleven, how d'you suppose I know what's in my head? You're a magic hat, so you tell me!"

The hat snorted, bursting into laughter so loud it jolted the nappers from their slumbers. "Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure, she said, and you've got quite the wit. It was lovely chatting with you Lucy Weasley, and if you're ever in the Headmistress's office, do say hello. For you, the house that seems right would be... RAVENCLAW!"

And Lucy Weasley hopped off of the stool and skipped happily to the Ravenclaw table, taking a seat besides Scorpius Malfoy, confident that she had made the right decision.

**XX**

_Camp Potter: A Challenge - Tech Discovery (Next Gen) Week 1 - Write about Lucy Weasley, impish_

Please leave a review, I'd really appreciate it! :D


	2. Your Most Loyal Lieutenant,

_It was painfully obvious that to herself that she was faking her madness, but as the days turned to weeks and months and years, she couldn't help the doubt that slowly crept into her heart. Would He ever come to get her? Or did He have an even greater plan?_

**Your Most Loyal Lieutenant,**

**By silver-nightstorm**

**Word count: 2,065**

**XX**

On the first and only day Narcissa Malfoy visited her older sister in Azkaban, she held a journal in her elegantly gloved hands. She had heard from the guards that her elder sister had been etching morbid letters on the walls of the prison and she thought to provide Bella with some comfort. The journal was a soft, leather-bound affair in a jet black with the letters "Bellatrix Lestrange" etched on the front in silver and green script. As the years passed, the colors would fade so that only the indentations remained leaving the journal as dark and gloomy as the prison Bella was trapped in.

My Lord,

I am eagerly awaiting Your return, but I am in Azkaban. I hope the act of breaking me out will not cause You terrible inconvenience.

Your Most Loyal Lieutenant,

Bellatrix Lestrange

Bellatrix resented her sister's kind gesture. She hated Cissy for not visiting her more often, though she knew that her fragile sister wouldn't be able to tolerate even that little exposure to Azkaban. She also knew that Lucius had forbidden Narcissa to visit her oldest sister, but Bella was determined to detest Cissy so detest she did. The minute the journal touched her hand, she threw it (along with the quill and ink) into the dark corner of her cell that was closest to where the door appeared and there it remained.

My Lord,

I have always found the practice of writing letters foolish and trivial, but the atmosphere here is overwhelming and the little respite I receive from the foolishness is much welcomed. I hope Tou can overlook this behaviour from me because I assure You, My Lord, I am still as strong and ruthless as even. Even though my fragile sister gave me a journal, I will continue to write on the walls. Let them think I am mad! But I assure You, My Lord, I remain as powerful as ever! I do, however, fear that I might need a proper nap before I resume service in Your name once more.

Your Most Loyal Lieutenant,

Bellatrix Lestrange

For the first few days in her cell, Bellatrix etched the passage of each day and night on the wall, taking the time to painstakingly carve the numbers and refusing to simply write them in the journal. Exactly two weeks into her stay, Bellatrix lost track of the days. The endless cold had taken a toll on her and surrounded as she was by only the grey of her cell and the black of her hair and the gaunt white of her skin, she took to the corner of the room diagonally across from the journal and curled into herself, her worn fingers torn apart from her etching dripping red blood to the floor.

My Lord,

I do not know what day it is. I am afraid I lost count, and I beg You to not hate me for it. You have not replied to any of my missives and I am unsure if I should worry. I know it is presumptuous of me to think You would deign me with a reply, but I cannot help but fear that You will not return for a while. You are the most powerful, My Lord, but even the most powerful will struggle to return from death. I am still eagerly awaiting Your return.

Your Most Loyal Lieutenant,

Bellatrix Lestrange

That was the day she remembered why she was in Azkaban. That was the day she remembered He was gone (no! He can't be! He'll come back! He _must_!).

My Lord,

But You're obviously not dead, I was foolish to even let the thought enter my mind. You are clearly biding Your time, letting the filthy Blood Traitors and Half-Bloods and Mudbloods believe they are safe while You hatch a great plan to destroy them all. I am elated to finally understand this, and I am now most eager to be privy to the details of Your great plot.

... unless there isn't a plot?

Oh please oh please oh please My Lord be alive don't be dead oh please oh please oh please no no no no no

Her wailing could be heard through the island, a discordant screech that drove even more to madness and one to solace as in his animagus form.

My Lord,

In my last letter it seemed as though I lost hope. I apologize for my moment of weakness. The Dementors have been taking a larger toll on me than I expected, but no one said it would be easy to survive with my sanity in Azkaban. I am deeply ashamed for my doubt. Rest assured, I shall not doubt again.

Your Most Loyal Lieutenant,

Bellatrix Lestrange

She looked to the corner again that day, the corner with the journal, and for a moment contemplated picking it up and writing in it. Her nails were growing more and more ragged from scratching on the walls, and her fingers were pale stumps tipped with her crusty red blood. But the moment she seriously contemplated picking up the journal, she remembered who paid for it. It was Malfoy money. Dirty money.

My Lord,

It is very cold and dank but that is not a problem because I know You will return. When You do, I hope You take it upon Yourself to punish Lucius Malfoy. I do not mean to tell You what to do, My Lord, I merely wish to report insubordination. Malfoy - among many others - had the audacity to plead the Imperius when we both know that was obviously false. He used the money from my sister's dowry to pay his way out of an Azkaban stay. We know the truth, My Lord. Lucius is a pathetic man and he knew he wouldn't survive in Azkaban like I have. He isn't as strong as I am, My Lord, and he should be punished for his weakness.

Your Most Loyal Lieutenant,

Bellatrix Lestrange

But despite her aversion to Malfoy, she couldn't continue to write on walls. After all, it was barbaric. And when the guards last visited, they laughed at the thought that she was crazy enough to write on the walls with a journal sitting at her side. Then they gave her the distressing news that _he_ was free and she knew that she needed to write on paper. She crawled diagonally across her cell. She moved to the corner close to where she knew the door would appear, groping and pawing in the dark until her fingers met disgustingly clean leather. In the eerie glowing light that emitted from all the walls, she stroked her fingers over the silver and green letters and opened the journal, taking up the quill in a shaky hand and almost upturning the tiny bottle of ink in her efforts to open it. With rigid, trembling, bloody fingers, she wrote.

My Lord,

I learned today that Severus Snape is not among our ranks at Azkaban and this has proven a thought I've had for quite a while. He is not loyal to You, My Lord, and I fear he plots with Dumbledore to destroy You. Do not trust Snape, My Lord. He is neither worthy of Your consideration nor loyal to Your cause. When I leave Azkaban, I will take it upon myself to end him and his threat to Your crusade.

Your Most Loyal Lieutenant,

Bellatrix Lestrange

But the days passed even slowly and Bellatrix wrote and wrote and wrote until she used up all the pages, and then she wrote between her writing and in the margins until she ran out of ink and then she used the quill etch a message on the wall, hoping her Lord would see.

My Lord,

I do not mean to sound doubtful, but I am worried that You have forgotten me. I am eagerly awaiting Your rescue in Azkaban.

Your Most Loyal Lieutenant,

Bellatrix Lestrange

But it was then, in the not-quite-darkness, that she knew the truth. There was only one reason He wouldn't have rescued her yet. And it was so, painfully obvious, that Bella was ashamed she hadn't realized it before.

My Lord,

I realize the problem now. You are testing me once more. To truly prove my worth, You want me to escape from Azkaban without Your assistance. Of course, You would not give me an impossible task. You must believe in me, My Lord, and that makes me so pleased I cannot even articulate my feelings. I will not fail You, My Lord. I will escape and return to Your side and prove to all that I am Your most powerful and Your most loyal follower.

Your Most Loyal Lieutenant,

Bellatrix Lestrange

She curled up in her corner once more to plot and bit by bit, a foolproof plan formed. But then she started to doubt.

My Lord,

Perhaps you mean to give me another test? A test of my mental capacity, perhaps. Do You wish for me to remain in Azkaban instead to prove that my superior intellect can survive the horrors of the Dementors? I am afraid I am rather confused, My Lord, and I apologize profusely for my denseness. I only wish that You make my task more obvious so I can serve You in my greatest capacity.

Your Most Loyal Lieutenant,

Bellatrix Lestrange

It dawned on her later as she was trying in vain to untangle her thick curls, that perhaps He was testing her within the two tests. Perhaps the test itself was the decision. After all, her Lord was never straightforward. Her Lord would never give her an _easy_ task. He already _knew_ she was worthy. Now, He needed to know if she was the _most_ worthy.

My Lord,

I think I have figured it out, My Lord. You want me to make the choice - stay or go? But I am afraid I do not know which option is right and which is wrong. Are You trying to discern my character based on my choice? I am afraid to disappoint You, My Lord. I know You detest fear in all forms, but I cannot help but worry that I will disappoint You. That is my only fear in life and in death.

Your Most Loyal Lieutenant,

Bellatrix Lestrange

After all, why would her Lord test her with an _easy_ task?

My Lord,

I have decided to stay. Escaping is almost too easy with the wandless magic You taught me. The bigger task and the bigger challenge is the mental one: Can I survive? I will remain vigilant in the coming days, weeks, and months. I simply pray that You will not take years to return to the attention of the universe. Not because I cannot survive in Azkaban for that long, but because I fear that Your so-called "loyal" followers - the Malfoys and the Snapes of our cause - will lose their devotion to You and their fear of You even though You are the most deserving of that fear and devotion. They are not the type of followers You deserve, but for now they are what we have and we mustn't delay your plan if we intend to have the numbers to succeed.

Your Most Loyal Lieutenant,

Bellatrix Lestrange

And years passed and she continued to write and etch and write and etch. The guards stayed far from her cell, choosing not to feed her anymore out of fear of encountering her hunched over the floor, franticly scribbling with the quill, madness in her eyes. They kept her alive with a nutrition spell and it suited her all the same because she could abandon her charade of insanity when they didn't seek to see her. And in that manner, the year 1995 came to be, though she didn't know the number. One fateful day, she felt a glorious burning on her arm and the beautiful mark that had been growing darker all year was finally calling to her. Despite the pain, she cradled her arm and wept tears of joy, for although she wasn't by her Lord's side, he would get her soon. Her task was over.

My Lord,

I am well, and I am ecstatic. I am in cell block 777, cell number 13. I eagerly await the opportunity to be by Your side once more.

Your Most Loyal Lieutenant,

Bellatrix Lestrange

**XX**

_Camp Potter: A Challenge – Archery (oneshots of 2K or more) Week 1 – Write about waiting, right or wrong, red, vigilance, "No one said it would be easy," glove_

I'd really appreciate it if you guys would leave a review! :)


	3. He Is Worth It

_You fall in love with him from afar and then you learn who he really is. But despite everything, you can't help but want to save him. _

**He Is Worth It**

**By silver-nightstorm**

**Words: 246**

**XX**

You sit across the hall

from him and even with the

d…i…s…t…a…n…c…e

his presence is

_magnetic_

and [justforamoment] when he looks up

he seems to make eye contact with

you and only you

and

your heart [startstobeatfaster]

and

your body [shivers]

and

a warmth [appearsinyourtummy]

and

[justasquickly] he smirks

.W.I.D.E.L.Y.

(because of course he knows you're obsessed with him, _everyone_ is)

and next to you your friends giggle

because they see the _glance_

and they think there's a _chance_

"He's secretly besotted with you, we know it!"

they exclaim

"It's very possible! You never know! Maybe!"

but you know [thetruth]

and

you know [howtheworldworks]

and

with a "Maybe not,"

you admit the truth to yourself

Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr.

would _never_ fall in love with a lowly

**Hufflepuff **

like you.

...

Naturally you're caught [completelyoffguard]

when he asks you to Hogsmeade after the third Quidditch match of the year

when your hair is

~windblown~

and your voice is

-gone- from cheering

It takes you a few moments to form the right words.

but with

Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr.

there is always a {hiddenagenda}

and

L

I

T

T

L

E

B

Y

L

I

T

T

L

E

you discover _things_ about him

(his eyes aren't **black** they're a h.y.p.n.o.t.i.z.i.n.g blue)

you find out the _truth_

_..._

He is _twisted_. He is terrible. He is **terrifying**.

...

And you can't help but want to save him because _**he is worth it**_.

**XX**

_Camp Potter: A Challenge – Arts and Crafts (freeverse) Week 1 – maybe, maybe not; blue; wind_

Please leave a review! :D


	4. Every Night

_Every night, Draco Malfoy couldn't sleep. And every night, he would return to the place where he reached the point of no return. And every night, he would marvel at how easy it was to simply… jump._

**Every Night**

**By silver-nightstorm**

**Words: 142**

**XX**

He stood there and he stared and he clenched his fists so hard his nails dug into his palms. He had to come back here and he hated it. He hated walking the halls of the Hogwarts again after _what he did_. He hated cursing the Gryffindors that looked at him with disgust when all he wanted to do was bow his head in shame and weep.

He hated the fact that he couldn't stay away from the Astronomy Tower.

An every night, he would find himself unable to sleep and he would get up and slip his feet into his shoes and creep out of the dormitory and he would wander and he would always, always, _always_ end up back there.

He looked over the edge where _he_ had fallen and stood there with his feet dangling half-off and contemplated how easy it was to simply… jump.

…

If he timed it properly, he could land exactly how Dumbledore did.

**XX**

_Camp Potter: A Challenge – Paint Ball (war fics) Week 1 – Write about the Astronomy Tower during the war._

Please leave a review, I'd really appreciate it! :)


	5. Simply a Matter of the Heart

_As time goes by, details are discarded and motives are twisted. And no motives were twisted as much as those of Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin. Theirs wasn't a quarrel over blood purity. Theirs was a quarrel over a woman._

**Simply a Matter of the Heart**

**By silver-nightstorm**

**Words: 224**

**XX**

It's never too late to fix a mistaken impression. After all, History is, by it's very definition, biased. And one would do well to eliminate this bias as much as possible.

Take Salazar Slytherin, for example. If he knew the modern witch and wizard regarded him as a Pureblood supremacist, he would blanch. He would steeple his fingers and level a steely glare and retort with a snap to not insult his intelligence. Then if one asked him why he had a falling out with his best friend, he would roll his eyes and snort an "isn't it obvious, you imbecile?" and his eyes would flick over to an astonishingly beautiful woman with curly dark hair daintily topped with a crown and he would smirk. "I won, of course."

If one stuck around for a little longer, they would be able to witness the normally graceful and polite Rowena Ravenclaw resort to throwing pudding as a retaliation (she detested when Salazar talked of their relationship in terms of victory, she was not a possession) while the normally stoic and intimidating Salazar Slytherin would fight with all his might to hide the foolish grin his rebellious mouth insisted on forming. After all, love is the most powerful motivation of all.

And to think - the most famous quarrel in Wizarding history was simply a matter of the heart.

**XX**

_Camp Potter: A Challenge - History Appreciation (pre-Trio fics) Week 1 - Write about the Founders Era._

Please leave a review! :)


	6. No Strings Attached

_It wasn't until she blurted it out that she realized the painful truth behind her words. _

**No Strings Attached**

**By silver-nightstorm**

**Words: 711**

**XX**

On a fateful Wednesday morning, Alice came to the unwanted revelation that she was flighty. It wasn't a revelation that crept up on her, silently and secretly, jumping out of nowhere and completely shocking her. No, it was a revelation that had 'been a long time coming' and perhaps that was what made it worse.

That Wednesday was a very important day because it was the day of last Quidditch match of Alice's seventh year. The match was Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, and she was eagerly waiting in the stands and cheering on Frank Longbottom. It was while she was cheering that she realized how horrible she had been in their relationship. How they had a simple "no strings attached" relationship after every Quidditch match. How when he had asked her out, she had quite literally turned tail and ran. How she had talked to him again a few days later, and how she had attempted to mend their relationship, only to resort to resuming their "no strings attached" relationship when she downed a few more Firewhiskeys.

Alice Smith, eighteen-years-old, Gryffindor, flighty, scared of commitment.

She always _knew_ she was scared of commitment. Obviously, it was a bit of a difficult issue to ignore. Alice wasn't ugly by any means, so she should have realistically had many a boyfriend (or, at least, _one_) over the last few years. And neither did she have an irreversible flaw in her personality (besides the aforementioned flighty-ness) that persons of the stranger sex would find unappealing (unlike her friend, Lily Evans, Alice possessed the ability to shut up). Alice's problem was that over the years, whenever a boy would try to get serious with her, she would take a huge step back and then proceed to sprint in the other direction. Because of this, Alice had many uncomfortable acquaintances with boys from her house, as well as Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw (and one Slytherin, but both would violently deny the accusation and awkwardly change the topic) (of course, the two wouldn't be talking in the first place, so the aforementioned scenario is completely illogical). Fixing a relationship after that was almost impossible.

When asked _why_ she ran from commitment, Alice was forced to acknowledge that she might have an even deeper flaw than she originally feared. She wasn't just afraid of commitment. She simply never wanted what she had. She valued the journey more than the destination. For her, romance wasn't staying in love - it was falling in love. The magic disappeared the moment commitment appeared. When the boy was hers, she simply no longer wanted him.

But being scared of commitment wasn't the same as being flighty. And she had most certainly been flighty to Frank Longbottom.

Frank dodged the Ravenclaw Keeper, Wood, ducked a bludger, and threw the Quaffle through the hoops. Alice jumped up and cheered madly. "Go Frank! Frank! Frank! You're the best!" And before she could stop herself, the words flew out of her mouth, loud enough to be heard clearly across the pitch. "That's my boyfriend!" It wasn't until she blurted it out that she realized the painful truth behind her words.

Frank, for one, almost fell off his broom, spinning around dangerously in mid-air to face Alice, shellshocked.

She smiled slightly, nervously, helplessly, and shrugged. While Frank and the majority of the pitch was distracted, the Gryffindor Seeker caught the snitch and the stadium dissolved into cheers. Frank didn't join the Gryffindor team as they fell to the ground in a happy huddle. He flew straight over to Alice, jumping off of his broom in front of her. He stood before her for a few minutes, towering over her tiny frame, and pulled her into a desperate hug.

"Really?" he gasped, not quite believing.

"Yes," she whispered, standing on her tippy toes to look him in the eye, even as he bent down.

"Why? Why me?"

She pulled slightly away from him, just enough so she could look him in the eyes. "You're the only person who I've ever come back to. You're the only person I fall in love with more every day."

She had him. She had him and she still wanted him. And that's how she knew.

**XX**

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Challenge/Competition - Transfiguration - Write about something that is difficult to do (admitting your flaws, admitting your true feelings) - dangerous, a character must hug another character, Alice Longbottom, Major Quidditch match_

Please leave a review, it would mean the world to me! :)


	7. All He Could Do

_All he could do was hold her and hope things would get better. All he could do was silently promise he would keep fighting for her._

**All He Could Do**

**By silver-nightstorm**

**Words: 372**

**XX**

He had never seen her look so fragile before and it scared him. She was _Hannah_, fearless _Hannah_ and she should never be curled up in a protective ball, trembling. It wasn't right, not at all.

She looked up at him through red-rimmed eyes. "Neville?" she said, her voice a strangled sob. She opened her mouth to say more but couldn't as tears streamed faster down her face and she shook. He could see the hollow outlines of her cheekbones and her shoulders through her thick sweater. Her blonde hair, normally in neat curls, was straggly and thin, hanging limply over her face. Her normally cheerful blue eyes were haunted.

But it was her hands that told the tale. Normally steady and strong, the trembled like leaves in the wind. Her skin was dry and crusty blood adorned the inside of her palms in the crescent shapes of her nails. They weren't shaking from being cursed. They were shaking from something far worse.

"What did they do to you?" he demanded, albeit gently. He knelt next to her in the shadows of the deserted corridor on the seventh floor, reaching a gentle hand to grip her bony shoulder. "What did they do?"

"It… they made me… I…" She gulped and seemed to choke on her breath. "I had to curse… his little sister… she was late to class… and when it didn't work they just…"

His eyes grew dark and dangerous and she told him what the Carrows forced her to do. And no matter what he said, she wouldn't feel better. He knew well enough, for she had seen him in the same state some months before. All he could do was hold her and hope things would get better. All he could do was silently promise he would keep fighting for her.

On a whim, he placed a kiss of top of her matted hair. She looked up and him and smiled ever so slightly – a real smile, the first real smile he'd seen in a long while that wasn't laced with cruelty – and for the first time in months, he felt hope.

For the first time in months, he felt that all he could do might just be enough.

**XX**

_Camp Potter: A Challenge – First Aid (Angst) Week 1 – tremble, in the shadows, fragile_

_Snakes and Ladders Challenge - Neville Longbottom_

Please leave a review! :)


	8. Broken

_They marveled at his reckless courage in antagonizing the Carrows. What they didn't realize was that he had lost the will to live._

**Broken**

**By silver-nightstorm**

**Words: 1328**

**XX**

To the uneducated outside observer, Seamus Finnigan was the epitome of bravery and Gryffindorishness. He stood up for his beliefs, regardless of the cost. He butted in to save others at the cost of himself. He never stopped fighting. He never cowered in the shadows. He was always there, front and center, right next to Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley doing his very best to save the world. But behind is bravery – or, perhaps, foolishly within it – laid the truth.

He had given up.

The warning signs were all there, obviously. He was reckless. Seamus had never been one to think but he was never like this, purposefully taunting those with the power to hurt him. But somehow, until April 11th when Parvati Patil had to endure a detention with him, no one had truly realized his motivations. It was only then that someone recognized his lack of motivation.

He had simply lain there on the ground, not uttering a single expression of pain through the ordeal. He merely looked up every now and then to stare Alecto Carrow in the eye and give her sardonic grin and whisper something that would cause her to turn a magnificent, angry red and fire curse after curse at his already destroyed form.

Parvati trembled in fear as Amycus turned his frustration onto her. But she endured. She didn't provoke. She fought and she survived with the intensity of one who wanted to _live_. Seamus Finnigan fought to die.

He had given up.

She tried to talk to him later on, after the fact. Neville had nursed her back to health while Seamus, refusing treatment, had gingerly laid on his hammock and drifted into an uneasy sleep that caused him to toss and turn and rip his wounds further open. She had gone to sit by his hammock in the chair that the Room of Requirement summoned for her. She reached over to wake him up only to find that his green eyes were already open and alert.

"What is it?" he asked. His voice wasn't angry. His voice wasn't anything.

He had given up.

She fought her tears as she watched her friend, but they streamed down her face and over her cheeks and off her chin nonetheless. He reached up a wavering, bloody hand and wiped them away as best as he could. She smiled at him wanly. He did not.

She knew what made him like this. It was no big mystery. After all, the two were best friends (and, perhaps - as she and Lavender liked to giggle about - more). And he was running for his life while he was stuck here, helpless. And for all he knew, he was dead.

She put herself in his shoes for a moment and thought about how she would feel if Lavender was the one missing. Or Padma.

"Dean will be all right," she said simply. She turned away and ran off before she could see him cry.

It was soon after on April 15th that Lavender found out. It was difficult for Parvati to keep anything from her, after all, and she accidentally told the blonde that she felt awful for Seamus and that she would be the same way if anything happened to Lavender. Lavender was simultaneously flattered by this (she spent the rest of the day bragging about her fabulous best friend to the poor first-year Ravenclaws Ami, Nami, Alicia, and Empress who had set up their little camp with the other terrified first years in the Room) and annoyed (she told Parvati that if she ever decided to become a 'reclusive potato' that she would make it her responsibility that a cute boy would see her in her state of 'ugly, fashion-disaster despair').

When she ultimately approached him, Lavender took a more heavy-handed technique, trying to – quite literally – pull Seamus from his hammock, even going so far as to flip the hammock over (Seamus clung to the rope with the skill of a monkey) and to deny him food (he didn't care).

But it had been months since he had heard from Dean. He was dead. He knew it. And he was dead too. He was convincing himself it was true so he wouldn't hurt even more but it wasn't working.

He had given up.

After the Lavender Incident, as he came to call the spectacle when he hung upside-down from a hammock with an angry blonde attempting to hex him, only Neville ventured near, gifting him with a "Dean is strong. He's a fighter. He'll come back." before hastily departing. Everyone else stayed away. Give him some space, the whispers said, coming primarily from the Hufflepuff house. He needs to sort this out. Obviously he's upset, they were best friends.

Four of the first-year Hufflepuffs – Claire, Erin, Milly, and Carlee – made themselves his impromptu guards, moving from their corner with the other firsties to cluster close enough to him to keep an eye out for his health and to ward off questioning, pushy Gryffindors.

He didn't venture out of the Room of Requirement for a few days. His energy was lacking more than normal and he laid there in a state of stupor, moving his hand to the little table where Milly kept placing biscuits for him to eat every now and then when the growling in his stomach became unbearable and he could no longer resist the beckoning call of hunger.

He had given up.

It wasn't until April 28th that someone approached him. Luna Lovegood. She sat on top of him in the hammock, ignoring the chair that appeared next to it, preferring to jolt him out of his misery in a semi-painful manner. She fixed him with a glare until he reluctantly met her gaze.

When she spoke, he was even more confused. "Three days."

"Wot?"

She looked towards the ceiling, her familiar dreamy expression on her face.

"Or four days, depending on how exactly you count. May 1st. That's it. May 1st."

He had given up.

… But now he was curious.

"What's happening May 1st?"

"Love," she said happily. "And returns."

He frowned at her, and shifted uncomfortably under her weight as the hammock gave an ominous creak. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

She fixed him with a stern look, all the dreaminess gone from her eyes for a precious moment. "What do you think he'll say if he finds you like this?"

And Seamus didn't want to admit it but she was painfully _right_. Dean would never forgive him for this. Even if Dean was gone, he couldn't do this. He couldn't embarrass him with his behavior. He needed to get up, he needed to fight, and he needed to live. And he started functioning again, but it still wasn't the same because no matter how much he fought, he knew that deep down inside, there was one indelible fact.

He had given up.

And then May 1st happened. Harry was back. Ron was back. Hermione was back. And they had plans. Seamus got ready to fight. And then... then something amazing happened when Harry summoned the other members of the Order.

A familiar, tall, dark-skinned Wizard. He was bruised and battered. He didn't have his wand. He walked with a limp. His hair was longer than it had ever been.

But he didn't care because it was _Dean_ and he ran up and he hugged him and leaned up while he leaned down and their lips met and the room seemed to go silent for a moment and then it burst into cheers and hoots and hollers and wolf-whistles and "I told you so!"s (courtesy of the first year Gryffindors – Emily, Anna, Chris, and Harmony – their unmistakable voices a happy shriek) all at once but frankly he didn't give a fuck because Dean was back and he was alive and he was well and now, finally now...

He could live.

**XX**

_The Quidditch League Competition Round 1 – Captain – Write a romance_

_The Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Competition – Herbology - Write a story where someone is caring for an ill person. You can take this in anyway possible. – Broken, Someone must kiss someone, I just feel awful, incorporating classmates/ourselves as OCs_

_The Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Competition – Magical Theory – mystery _

_The Camp Potter Challenge – First Aid (angst) – forgive me, damage, warning signs_

_Create-A-Potion Challenge __– _Polyjuice Potion _–_ Lacewing Flies _– _Your first ingredient is lacewing flies. To be used properly these must be stewed for 21 days. So your task is to write about a three week period in a character's life.

Thanks for the read! Please leave a review, it would mean a lot :D


	9. Loyalty

Unlike the other stories in this collection, this fic is rated M.

This oneshot has been also published as it's own fic titled "Loyalty" separate from the rest of this collection.

_He challenged all of her notions of loyalty when he saved her. She knew he must have ulterior motives but she felt safe around him despite knowing better._

**Loyalty**

**By silver-nightstorm**

**Words: 6405**

**XX**

The scent of old parchment was overpowering. The rows of books stood attention in orderly lines, untouched and covered with a thick coating of dust that their normally loving caretaker had neglected. The musty red ropes that barred the Restricted Section were severed in two, their tattered remains hanging on the bookshelves they once guarded. Shadows fell thick between the bookshelves, covering those who dared to enter in a dark haze. Here and there, a tome would stand clean amongst the grit, its cover gleaming from the cloth that had wiped it clean before it was removed, read, and then carefully returned to its spot.

It was February of 1998 and the library at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry wasn't really deserted. There was one sole occupant of the silent haven that year, one sole student who had chosen to take refuge in the center of knowledge. She had managed to avoid most of the battles within the castle in this haven while also acquiring useful knowledge for the few fights she was involved in. She wasn't a common inhabitant of the library as she normally chose to study in the not-quite-quiet of her own dorm or in the hustle bustle of her house's common room but this year, this year it was _too_ quiet in Gryffindor house and she couldn't bare to look at the indents in the fluffy cushions where people normally sat. So she escaped to the even deeper silence of the library but the silence of the books was comforting and the whisper of paper sliding over paper eased the frantic fearful beating of her heart.

She sat in a plush velvet seat in the Restricted Section. The books around her whispered to her and though she didn't dare to pull one of the enticing tomes from the shelves, the haunting voices just out of her hearing were strangely comforting. They fought away the emptiness in her heart and even their darkness bought light to her life. The chair was in a corner, between two rows of books and a wall where a single lamp covered in a doily shade rested on the windowsill by her elbow casting scattered blobs of light over the vicinity. She curled up completely into the loveseat, her precarious heels forgotten on the ground as her feet poked just out from under her robes, gold nail polish gleaming in the circle of light. She cradled her book in her hands, the text held mere inches from her nose as she frantically flipped the pages, her copper skin shining in the light as she pushed curly black strands of hair out of her tiny eyes.

This was her haven. Parvati Patil had wanted so much more for that year. But this was all she had and she needed to make do.

Rain was pattering against the window that day, and only the lamp lit the room despite the early hour. She was reading through a tome of potions that day when her peace was suddenly, swiftly, rudely destroyed and her world torn to shreds. Her neck prickled as tiny hairs raised up and she sensed that she was no longer alone. She cocked her head slightly and could hear the magically muffled footsteps that made their way closer to her chair. She slowly moved her hand towards her wand hidden in her left sleeve, taking care to make sure her bangles didn't jangle with her movement. And then three figures appeared and a proud voice rang out.

"So, girls, it appears we finally found little Parvati's hiding place."

Her brown eyes snapped up to meet cold grey and goosebumps rose over her body. Her right hand, hidden by her book, slid into her sleeve and pulled out her wand, inch by creeping inch. She waited, eyes flicking from Pansy Parkinson's fingers as they twirled her wand to Daphne Greengrass's trembling hands and Millicent Bulstrode's empty stare.

"We thought we'd find you right after finding Lavender, little tag-along that you are," Pansy said with a light laugh. "Of course, you surprised us. Never thought stupid Parvati would hide out in the library. What, fancy yourself the new Granger?"

She tightened her grip on her wand but she did not move. She would not strike first. She was better than _them_.

She knew that eventually, _someone_ would check the library. But she thought she would have been safe for a few more weeks. She knew it was only a matter of time but she never imagined she had such little time.

She could hear Lavender's admonitions in her head. "Are you crazy, Pav? Why d'you still want to go to _classes _in all of this? No, listen to me! Some Slytherin is going to corner you and you'll get hurt, or worse! Just… just… why can't you just stay in the Room like all of us? You'll be _safe_ there!"

Lavender, for the first time in years, just didn't seem to _understand_. Parvati couldn't hide herself. This was where her Gryffindorishness emerged. She refused to cower away from those who could hurt her in hopes that her demons would vanish. She wouldn't retreat. She wouldn't back down. She wouldn't let the Carrow's make her fear life. She refused.

But she was still scared.

Many of the Slytherins had abandoned all pretenses of civility in the face of their current circumstances. The girls, who normally resorted to petty name-calling and minor hexes, now had mastered Unforgivables, throwing _Crucios_ without question and _Imperiusing_ friends into cursing friends. The boys, who frequently started duels in the hallways, now had turned to the darkest of Dark Magic. And that wasn't all.

Girls, and especially Gryffindor girls, didn't want to be caught on their own in a hallway with a Slytherin boy.

Parvati hadn't believed the rumors when she first heard them. After all, this was _Hogwarts_. No matter how bad it got, it would never come to _that_. It was only after seeing Romilda Vane's ripped clothes and bruised and beaten body and hearing her heartbroken sobs that she knew that everything she heard – and more – was true.

She realized with a curse the reason she was caught today. She neglected to put up a Disillusionment charm. She had let herself get lulled into a false sense of security, a simple silly mistake of negligence. But looking at Pansy and Millicent and Daphne, she counted her lucky stars that she was up against three girls. As her fingers began to turn white from her tension, she knew she would survive with her pride and her honour. She still had that.

She trembled and Pansy laughed. "Nothing to say, have you?" she said, her lips twisting into a cruel smirk. She shook her head, moving brown strands of hair out of her eyes. "What do you say, girls? Should we make Parvati squeal?"

Daphne Greengrass was trembling more than Parvati was, her sickly thin frame quavering as if she was a blade of grass in the wind. Her hand that wasn't holding her wand was running nervously through her blonde curls and she squeaked out a quick affirmative sound before Pansy turned to look at her.

Millicent Bulstrode's plain face was impassive but for her eyes. The big brown orbs held a tinge of fear, as if she expected Pansy's wand to turn just as quickly from Parvati to her. She nodded mutely.

Pansy's wand raised, Millicent's and Daphne's noticeable seconds after. Parvati let her book fall to her lap, her left hand still marking her page, as she raised her acacia wand, a shielding charm on the tip of her tongue when the girls in front of her shrieked as nasty, orange, pus-filled boils rose all along their bodies.

"This isn't over!" snarled Pansy, her eyes murderous as her face grotesquely twisted. "I won't forget this. If you know what's good for you, you'll hide away some place secret!"

With a murderous growl, she spun on her heel and stalked out of the corner.

Parvati didn't let herself relax. She didn't know that hex and she had spent plenty of time studying Defense this year. Either it was advanced well beyond her capabilities or it was dark and she was betting on the latter. Blindly groping to her side, she grabbed the purple ribbon that served as her bookmark and placed it in her tome, gingerly closing the leather cover without ever looking down at it or lowering her wand. She placed it on the windowsill, under the doily lamp, and slipped her feet into her pumps without looking at the floor. She stood up slowly.

A figure appeared before her and her breath caught in her throat when a circle of light fell on his lapel.

Green.

Her body went cold and fear filled her heart. Her feet wobbled despite the No Trip charms on her shoes.

A Slytherin Boy.

He walked closer and closer to her and she stiffened. Blaise Zabini.

His handsome face was adorned with an amused smirk and his blue eyes seemed to twinkle almost playfully. His long, elegant fingers grip his wand loosely as he lowers it to his side and deposits the instrument in his pocket.

If anything, the action scares Parvati even more.

His eyes slowly and purposely leave hers to travel down her body to her heels and back up to her face. He doesn't touch her but he makes her feel dirty. Her breath is caught in her throat when he takes a step further. There's a curse on her lips but her voice is lost in her dried throat.

She violently stumbles backwards and lands on the loveseat, her wand jarred from her fingers.

She stops breathing.

He laughs.

With a purposeful wink, he turns around and walks away. She can hear his footsteps retreating, exiting the library. They're not the faked sound of someone stepping lighter without moving, lulling her into a false sense of security. She can hear the change when he steps from the flagstone of the Restricted Section to the lush carpeting that floored the rest of the Hogwarts collection.

But she still couldn't breathe.

She moved like a spooked bird, gathering her book and her wand, turning off the lamp. She inched out of the Restricted Section, walking along the wall when her hand hit a doorknob and she sighed in imperceptible relief. She grabbed the brass handle and wrenched it open, falling into the Room of Requirement with a sob.

Seamus Finnigan caught her before she hit the ground in her fearful stumble. Lavender closed the door with a click behind her.

"Colin heard Pansy's curses while he was sneaking back from the kitchens. We thought you could use a hand." She could barely hear Seamus's calm voice over the beating of her heart.

She started crying and she couldn't stop, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. Another pair of arms wrapped around her and she was engulfed in the familiar embrace of her best friend.

"This isn't like you, Pav," whispered Lavender. "What happened out there? I know you're not scared of Pansy. What _happened_?"

"Zabini…" she managed and the people around her gasped. "I don't know but he just… he just saved me and _left_ and… I… I don't want to go outside anymore. I don't want to go outside."

XX

It was a miserable weekend when Parvati Patil first lived in the Room of Requirement, precariously curled into a catatonic protective ball on a corner hammock while Lavender worried over her. But as the days went by, her fear drained slowly from her body to be replaced by curiosity.

Blaise Zabini.

He had always been an odd Slytherin. Even when The Dark Lord's return had first been widely accepted as public, he had never taken a public stance. This year, he was one of the few Slytherins who fought to not fight. When he was asked to host a 'detention' that Parvati, Lavender, Seamus, and Neville had been subjected to, he had arrogantly laughed and proclaimed himself "a lover, not a fighter!" and left the room. He had never dirtied his hands with the ongoing guerilla battle in Hogwarts. He had never lowered himself to the dehumanizing acts like the other Slytherin males.

But he had never blatantly fought against The Dark Lord either. And that's what saving her was. Though she barely got into trouble compared to other members of her house, she was most certainly against You-Know-Who.

As the fear of what he could have done drained out of her, she began to wonder about what he actually did. Cursing Pansy and the others. Saving her from a nasty battle that probably wouldn't have ended in her favor. And then putting his wand away and… and… _checking her out_! What was his game?

So Parvati unrolled herself from her hammock and washed herself in the large bath that the Room provided and donned a clean set of robes over a periwinkle blouse with red embroidered flowers and grey skirt. She donned her bangles and rings and even brushed on some kohl before slipping into her red pumps and going to the Great Hall for breakfast despite Lavender's protests.

Thankfully, she hadn't missed any classes during her escape to the Room, so her disappearance had gone unnoticed except by Minerva McGonagall, who would hardly report one of her students to the Carrow's. The sun was shining through the windows in the Hall, the beautiful warm weather outside a stark antithesis to the forced civility inside, when Parvati sat down at the Gryffindor table and gave her Head of House a small smile.

Her eyes flicked to the table on the far side of the room. Pansy Parkinson was glaring daggers at her and she replied with a cheerful wave that made the pug-faced girl scowl, her face turning a violent orange-pink that matched the shrimp she stabbed with a fork.

Parvati's neck prickled and her eyes swept further up the Slytherin table to meet blue. She could feel his gaze on her for the rest of the meal, as she ate her over easy eggs. When Snape signaled the end of the meal by opening the doors, she stood tall and walked purposefully to the exit, noting how Pansy scrambled after her with Daphne and Millicent. Her neck prickled as she turned the corner. Zabini was following them.

The three girls finally made their presence known with a cleared throat outside the Muggle Studies classroom.

"I'll see you before lunch, Parvati," said Pansy, mocking speaking to a friend. She swept into the room with the other girls and Parvati headed up the stairs towards the common room. She was walking down the third floor corridor that was out of bounds her first year when there were finally no other students around. She stopped and spun around.

Zabini looked almost miffed, as if he was hoping to surprise her.

She crossed her arms, tapped a foot, raised an eyebrow, and waited.

It was a few moments before he spoke. "Seems as though you've recovered your courage."

"I never lost it. I just forgot I had it."

They were silent for a bit, standing a foot away from each other in the deserted corridor, her a Gryffindor that stood barely as high as neck, him a Slytherin would showed no signs of cursing her. Their gazes were fixed on each other and she fought to decipher his expression that rested just this side of unreadable.

"Why did you stop them?" she demanded, unwilling to play his silent game of meaningful looks.

"I'd hate to see your pretty face ruined."

She rolled her eyes and was about to laugh when she realized that his eyes didn't hold amusement like they did when he saved her on Friday. She stumbled backwards with a start as it dawned on her that the unfamiliar, indeterminable expression he wore was one of seriousness.

His hand reached out and grabbed her elbow, steadying her and stopping her bum from unceremoniously meeting the floor. It took no effort for him to return her to a stable upright position, despite her largely unbalanced stance.

Parvati couldn't help but feel flattered by his remark, but the solid grip of his fingers on her arm made her body shudder.

He was strong.

She couldn't decide if she was afraid or aroused.

He pulled her close to him, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body but still a hair away from contact other than his fingers wrapped around her arm. Her breath caught in her throat and time seemed to slow down as he leaned closer.

"You are very beautiful, Miss Parvati Patil…"

The whisper of his breath ghosted against her lips and her mouth parted of its own accord. His lips met hers suddenly and his tongue snaked into her mouth and she allowed herself to move her lips against his in return for a precious moment before attempting to pull away only to find herself locked in an iron embrace.

When she found she couldn't move, she just kissed him and tried not to think.

XX

Parvati was shaky for the rest of the day, her normal clumsiness tenfold as she tripped over nonexistent obstacles in her shoes charmed specially to ensure balance. Her mind was in turmoil because even in the end, she hadn't been the one to pull away.

Instead, she had unconsciously deepened the kiss, allowing her to thread her fingers though Zabini's slick dark hair, allowing herself to pull him even closer and kiss him with a bruising intensity, allowing herself to unconsciously move her hips against him only to notice when she felt his lips curl into a self-satisfied smirk under hers. And allowing him to be the one to pull away.

But most of all, she allowed him to walk away.

And that left her with a hollow feeling in her stomach and she couldn't decide why she felt so much regret that she didn't let things progress even more. But then those traitorous thoughts would make her violently shake her head to clear them from her mind and she would cause some other clumsy accident in her vicinity (the last occurrence had been in Herbology where she had walked right into a shelf of poisonous Belladonna).

She wouldn't see him until Ancient Runes on Thursday. She was happy about that.

She put on a smile and tried to convince herself that the little ache that she felt was absolutely nothing – not desire, not passion, and most _certainly not_ anything remotely resembling love.

XX

Ancient Runes that week was the first time she encountered other Slytherins. They had left her strangely alone the past few days, as she noticed when she saw not a hide or hair of Pansy, but she wasn't allowing herself to be lulled into a false sense of security. Whenever a green snake passed her in the hall, she would grip her wand tighter in her pocket, a nonverbal shielding charm cast around her person. She would not let herself be surprised again, not by Pansy and Daphne and Millicent and most certainly not by Zabini.

But the lack of confrontation was unnerving.

Almost every other member of her house sported some new sort of bruise or residual hexing each day and she was the only one unscathed. She was always careful, of course, so she usually went a week unhurt, but considering all of her recent Slytherin encounters, she couldn't help but feel something was off.

It wasn't until she was in Ancient Runes that she connected the dots of the strange behavior around her. Ever since the other Gryffindor members of the class left, Parvati had sat in a desk in the middle of the room with the seat directly beside her empty. The yellowing wooden tabletop bore engraved remains of Hermione Granger's over enthused note taking from back in their sixth year. Parvati made it a point to not look at the depressing reminder of her missing roommate, choosing instead to fixate on the board as the professor flicked her wand to instruct the chalk to write the key points of their lecture and respective assignment for the day. They were supposed to be translating runes adorning the Great Pyramid of Giza that protected Pharaoh Khufu's tomb from grave robbers in pairs halfway through the class but before she had a chance to pair up with the Slytherin least likely to cause her bodily harm (a Miss Tracey Davis), the empty seat next to her was taken by a handsome Italian wizard. And strangest of all was the distinct lack of murderous death-glares directed towards her person – instead, the remaining Slytherins regarded her with a knowing acceptance.

It was only a few seconds before Parvati spoke, as resisting the urge to talk was never one of her strong qualities. "What the hell did you do?" she hissed, leveling Blaise with heated brown eyes.

"Are you so ignorant of the on goings in this school that you won't take protection when you get it?" he retorted as he spread a sheaf of parchment on his side of the bench.

"What did you _do_?" she demanded again, her mind making up worst-case scenarios. If he told his house that he planned to take care of her personally that would be enough to make the rest of them stay away, wouldn't it?

"I merely let it drop that my mother would be quite displeased if she found her future daughter-in-law… _damaged_."

Her eyes widened and her quill dropped from her numbed fingers. "You told them _what_?!"

If anything, his smirk grew as he pushed a strand of dark hair from his eyes. "Please, Parvati. Don't insult my intelligence. And don't insult yours." He leaned close to her, his lips touching her ear, and whispered. "I just want to fuck you. And I won't let anyone get in my way. I did what I needed to do."

She couldn't stop herself from trembling at the delicious feeling of his breath tickling her earlobe. She couldn't ignore the heat that pooled in her belly at his crass words. But she could ignore _him_.

For the rest of the class, she treated him with haughty indifference.

XX

After living for two weeks in the bubble of peace that only seemed to surround her, Parvati was sick and tired of avoiding Blaise like the plague. Adequately lonely, she returned to the Room of Requirement. She didn't expect what she found.

Oh, she knew that Blaise's declaration would circle its way around to the Gryffindor side of things sooner or later. She even knew that his words would reach those secluded in the Room.

She never imagined even once in her wildest dreams that they would believe them.

But as she walked into the Room, she was met with harsh glared and icy silence from every single member within. Even Lavender. And perhaps the most heartbreaking of all was the look of absolute hurt and betrayal in Lavender's eyes.

"Lav," she tried, speaking too loud in the quiet room. "It's not true… he just… he's a bastard of a Slytherin, why d'you believe him?"

"Then why?" replied Lavender, her voice a soft whisper completely unlike her. "Why would he protect you? What does he really want?"

Parvati opened her mouth to speak and her voice just floated away. Because what could she tell them? He wanted to sleep with her so he told others not to harm her? _How_ could she tell them that? How would anyone _believe_ that? And how was that any better than what he said.

Tears streamed down the side of her face as she shook her head desperately, staying silent.

Lavender stood up from her perch on her hammock with Seamus, and walked towards her best friend. "If he's hurting you in any way… if he's threatening you at all…"

"He's not," she managed to sob out. "He's not and that's the scariest part. I don't know what he wants. I don't know where his loyalties lie. I don't know if I can trust him but for some reason I want to!" And with a hiccup, she threw herself into her best friend's arms and just cried. Little by little, life returned to the room. She felt Seamus draw near, felt his arms as they wrapped around her and Lav. She felt Neville's hand consolingly patting her shoulder.

She felt sick as she realized that she was lying by omitting the truth.

She felt even more she as she realized that her words still rung painfully true.

XX

"Pav? You'd tell me if you were really engaged to Zabini, right? I mean, I wouldn't care. He's a good-looking man, that's for sure. And that arse!"

XX

They played a game of cat and mouse for a month. She scuttled through the halls of Hogwarts, wary of her newfound immunity, not daring to step a toe out of line to attract the Carrow's attention, not now when she had more Slytherin attention that she had ever desired. He stalked after her, gracefully cornering her as she tried in vain to slip out of his grasp. At first, he would simply edge into her personal space, standing unbearably close to her until his musky scent made her heady with desire, made her want to grab onto the green of his robe and pull him flush against her body, pulling away just as her fingers twitched towards him. She hated him for it, but she couldn't find it in her to curse him. Despite his superiority in height and strength, she always, somehow, felt paradoxically in control. She always hoped, despite herself, that he wouldn't move away. That he would remain in front of her, wearing that infuriating smirk, until she finally, _finally_, built up the courage to pull him close like she wanted to.

And then, one day, he did.

XX

She had finally retreated to her spot in the library that day, finding to her happiness that her last book remained upon the windowsill. With a pleased sigh, she sunk into the cushions of the loveseat and lost herself in the world of the written word, discarding her shoes and her awareness of the outside world with them. So lost was she that she ignored the prickling of the back of her neck. She disregarded the dip in the seat next to her. She only noticed him when she moved from leaning against the armrest with the intention of sitting on the other half of the couch only to find herself close enough to his body to feel the heat coming from him. She was still too far away for her liking.

His arm fell around her figure and his large hand rested on her waist and pulled her slight form closer to him, but still not close enough to touch him. She looked up from her book, hyper aware of him despite the inadequate physical contact. She met his eyes and was frozen by the raw lust within them. She took a shuddering breath and pressed herself flush against him.

His eyes sparked.

Their lips met.

There was something else in his eyes, she was sure of it, but as they kissed the more fleeting thoughts flew out of her mind.

Somewhere along the line, the book tumbled from her fingers as they chose to thread themselves through his hair instead. He chuckled as she tugged on the dark strands, pulling his questing lips to the hollow of her neck where he continued to kiss her, interspersing nips and bites that caused her to give out little breathy moans.

With a wave of his wand he cast a silencing spell before dropping it to the stone floor to join her forgotten tome. Her questing hands soon had his robes following.

Parvati gasped as his fingers ripped her robe open and started on the buttons of her gold blouse, pulling the flimsy fabric apart to reveal a lacy green bra. Her cheeks heated up at his self-satisfied smirk at her color choice before all thought was wiped from her mind when his hand cupped her left breast.

She arched with a moan, and grabbed at his shirt, frantically pulling at it to free it from his trousers. She groaned in frustration and managed to wandlessly pop open all the buttons on his clothing.

He laughed and pulled her questing hands from their now eager exploration of his muscled chest, instead taking the opportunity to completely divest her of her blouse and robes, struggling to pull the fabric over her bangles. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Parvati felt like she should have been embarrassed, like she shouldn't be doing this, but she told herself to shut it and gasped when Blaise's fingers roughly pulled down the cups of her bra and suddenly his delicious mouth was wrapped around her nipple and she couldn't breathe, much less think.

After that, it was mostly a blur as she arched against him and he ground down, his hardness against her core through his trousers and pants and her knickers and his hiss as she smiled coquettishly and palmed his member over his boxers after tugging off his slacks. She lost all semblance of coherency when his nimble fingers delved into her core and he bought her to a mind-numbing orgasm with his mouth. She moaned as he rubbed against her, darkly teasing her with his delicious voice as he promised all sorts of depravities. She shrieked when he thrust roughly, breaking her barrier as he sunk fully into her body.

And he froze, horror struck. "I…" he gasped, his body trembling over her as he fought to hold still. "I never realized…"

She shook her head mutely, a moisture in her eyes. "It's nothing I wanted this I…"

"But I never meant for this… I thought you must have… You're the best looking girl in our year, for Merlin's sake!" His voice trailed off with a disbelieving laugh and he almost seemed to release a strangled sob, burying his head against her breasts. "I never meant to hurt you, Parvati. I never want to hurt you." The words were so soft she almost didn't hear them.

Parvati twisted slightly under his weight. The slight pain was disappearing quickly and she ran her fingers through his hair – his lovely hair – comfortingly wrapping her other arm around his muscled torso. He pulled his arms tighter around her.

"I'm so sorry."

She bucked her hips against his and he growled once more, fighting to remain still. It was only when she repeated her actions and moaned in his ear that he looked up into her eyes.

"Blaise," she gasped, rolling her hips again. "Fuck me."

At her words, he groaned and thrust deeply into her, causing her to gasp as he set a torturously slow pace, melting her into a puddle of nerve endings. She dug her nails into his shoulders and begged him to speed up, to take her faster. And he complied, feeling her walls fluttering around him, he rode her harder, moving a hand between them to press against her clit. His thrusts began to lose rhythm and he bit his lip and growling her name in his deep voice, jerking as he came to competition. She melted around him, crying out his name as she fell over the edge, and sighing as he settled his weight atop her.

She shoved at him to move over once she could breathe again, his heavy weight all too much for her. He captured her lips in a languid kiss as they lay on their sides. She stretched luxuriously, catlike, her bangles jingling around her wrists, with a contented smile on her face.

"I wish I could paint you like this," said Blaise, trailing his hands over the swell of her breasts to rest in the dip of her waist. "Just… so I remember this really happened."

Parvati smiled teasingly. "Didn't realize you fancied yourself an artist, Blaise."

He frowned and playfully flicked her nipple. "I love art! Don't laugh!"

They laid in silence for a while, neither willing to drift off to sleep, both content to simply stare into each others eyes. She spoke suddenly, impulsively, breaking the silence.

"I think I love you." It was a breathy confession, an unsure one, an honest one.

Blaise pulled her close and buried his nose in her hair, breathing deeply and tightening his arms around her. "Now I can die happy, _Parvati_," he whispered softly, when she was just about to fall asleep. "I'm afraid I love you."

It was only later that her heart stopped and she couldn't breathe as though she felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over her head. This was a _war_. And any other time that statement could be ignored. But now, now… _now_. She was terrified she was going to do something foolish out of misplaced loyalty to a Slytherin she desperately wanted to trust.

XX

That night she couldn't fall asleep again without him by her side so she returned to the Room and shook Lavender awake from her hammock and pulled her reluctant friend away from Seamus's embrace.

"What's happening," mumbled Lavender, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she took in her friend's ruffled appearance. "You better have a good reason for waking me up…"

"How do I know if I love someone?" Lavender's jaw dropped open at her friend's words and she was instantly awake. Parvati was just as shocked as Lavender. She didn't know what she wanted to ask her friend, only that it was absolutely essential that she asked her right away, and she had headed off to find her in her pajamas with barely a formulated thought in her head.

But Lavender, without even asking Parvati what had happened, seemed to know. And she gave her best friend a knowing smile, a soft sad smile, and spoke. "It's difficult to say, really," she sighed, a faraway look in her eyes, "but when you love someone, the way you say their name is different. And when someone loves you, you know that your name is safe in their mouth."

"Like 'Won-Won'?" grinned Parvati, before she could stop herself.

Thankfully, Lavender's eyes didn't grow sad like they used to at the mention of her old paramour. Instead, she laughed as well. "Not exactly," she managed between giggles. "It's… it's something _more_ than just that."

"Like?" prompted Parvati.

"Like… _Seamus_."

And her heart stopped as she remembered the way he said her name. "Now I can die happy, _Parvati_."

XX

She didn't realize how much she had changed him and neither did she until she asked him to fight, months later. It had started as a quiet conversation in their corner in the library – because it was _theirs_ now, most certainly – and it had turned into a full-fledged row.

He had tried to calm her with kisses when he said that he couldn't fight but she had pushed him off of the loveseat and he tumbled to the floor without his shirt.

"I just don't think I can do it, Parvati!" he protested, getting up onto his knees so her could look her in the eyes. "I just… I can't put my mother in danger by so obviously choosing a side!"

"But you can put _me_ in danger?" she demanded, her eyes watering. "What happened to you loving me?"

"I do! Why would I say that if I didn't?"

She saw the brutal honesty in his eyes but she couldn't help herself and she opened her mouth to utter her hurtful words. "You're a Slytherin, aren't you? You don't know what honesty is! You wouldn't know what honesty was even if it hit you in the face! You just care for yourself! What was the point of _this_ again?" She gestured between the two of them. "Surely not _love_ as you want me to believe! You told me yourself what this is! '_I just want to fuck you_.'"

All the bottled up emotion was pouring out and all of her fears and doubts and she didn't stop, couldn't stop herself. She could see his hurt and his anger and his betrayal and his _rage _but she couldn't stop…

"So what is it, Blaise?" she asked, her eyes fiery even as tears fell down cheeks. "What is it? Do you love me? Or do you just love to fuck me?"

And he pulled himself up off of the ground and he grabbed the neck of her blouse and wrenched her out of the chair and for a moment she was terrified as she saw the fury in his blue, blue, blue eyes and she gasped as she felt his strength, really felt it, for the first time and…

And suddenly she was wrapped in his tight embrace as his arms tightened around her waist and she moved her arms to his shoulders only to feel them shaking and realizing to her horror that she had reduced him to tears.

"I am so sorry," she whispered as he trembled like a leaf. "I'm so, so sorry. I love you and I know you love me and you don't need to fight to prove to me what I already know. I'm so, so sorry…"

"No," he said softly in her ear, his breath ghost through her hair. "I can't not fight for you anymore."

She tried to pull away from him so she could see his expression, but he stopped her, holding her tight and shaking his head, unwilling to let her see his vulnerability, not just yet.

"You're the only one I've ever chosen a side for, Parvati Patil. And you're the only one I'm loyal to."

As he held her in his arms, she knew he meant every single word and every doubt that she had was erased in her mind. He would protect her, just as he did on that fateful February day. He would always protect her.

XX

Blaise Zabini shocked the entire school when he didn't leave with the rest of the Slytherins.

But when he held Parvati Patil's hand and the two teenagers smiled at each other, it was abundantly clear where his loyalties really were.

**XX**

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Competition – Potions – Write about someone's first time – __Mistake, Someone must sleep with someone, Angst; Romance, I don't know *name* I just don't think I can do it!_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Competition – Ancient Studies - __Pyramid; Snake; A character must cast a spell; Worried; Death; a beautiful, hot, sunny day; Smut; What is the point of this again?; A character must roll their eyes; Jangle_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Competition – Art - __Red; blue; Orange; Brushes; Pink; Purple; Yellow; Green; I love doing art, stop making fun of me!; Periwinkle_

_Camp Potter: A Challenge – Archery (oneshots of 2k or more) – write about loyalty, __When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You know that your name is safe in their mouth."- Jess C. Scott _

_The Life of Your OTP Challenge/Competition – Blaise/Parvati, Killer – the scent of _ was overpowering, cover, library, rain, tremble, orange, over_

_The Hunger Games: Fanfic Style Challenge – beautiful, loneliness, "I'll die happy", Herbology, poison_

Wow, this is my longest oneshot ever. I hope you guys enjoy this! :D

This fic used to be a part of the collection "So I Will Try, Not To Cry, and No One Needs To Say Goodbye".


	10. Courage of a Dragon (Tamer)

_He was a dragon tamer and she was a dragon. _

**Courage of a Dragon (Tamer)**

**By silver-nightstorm**

**Words: 323**

**XX**

he was a dragon tamer and she was a dragon

…well…

_**not quite**_

she was a fashion designer but she _fancied_ herself a dragon

_tiny_ & **fierce**

/b\u/t\a/f\r/a\i/d\

her courage _missing_

{**stolen** by a war}

she was a dragon and she was scared of water

(after all, it would put out her inner fire, and that was most definitely a no)

so at the beach she didn't venture to the blue, sitting under an umbrella in a circle of shade with a book

_he_ was the only one to see the evidence of her fear

(in her eyes, eyes he had never seen afraid, even when she turned her vengeance on Greyback)

so

he _held_ his hand out to her

and _winked_

and _dared_ her to follow him into the water

she couldn't turn down a dare

_andheknewthat_

so she removed her b.u.t.t.e.r.f.l.y hair clip and she stood up and she took his hand

(_large_**&**_warm_**&**_strong_**&**_sturdy_**&**_reassuring_)

and followed him to the shore,

walking past children building sandcastles-in-the-sand and

_wishing _

she could do the same

she was nervous

the salty tide swept up,

licked her toes,

she jumped back,

[[clinging]] to him and he smirked at her

(but it wasn't self satisfied or mocking or mean it was just... him and it was _wonderful_)

so she _tightlytangled_ _ fingers in **h**(h)**i**(e)**s**(r) and

s\t\e\p\p\e\d forward and

she was in the water and

she wasn't melting and

a fish circled around her foot and

she giggled and then laughed and hugged him and

she was _happy_ because someone had finally given her courage

(because sometimes it takes the most courage to do the _simplest of things_)

she knew they had a future

because

with him by her side _she would never be afraid again_

he was a dragon tamer and she was a dragon and he was her courage and she was his love

**XX**

_Camp Potter – Arts and Crafts (freeverse) – tangled, meant for more, evidence_

_2013 Summer Olympics – Swimming – water, never, circle, tide, salt, a bucket_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Competition – Advanced Arithmancy Studies – happy_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Competition – Frog Choir – nervous_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Competition – Ghoul Studies – scared _

Please leave a review, it would mean the world for me :)


	11. Lost

_***THE EVENTS IN THIS FIC ARE NOT PORTRAYED CHRONOLOGICALLY***_

_She was lost to him, lost in a pile of memories, and all he had left was a pounding headache when he tried to remember her goodbye. Severus/Lily._

**Lost**

**By silver-nightstorm**

**Words: 1809**

**XX**

He simply sat there, drinking himself into a stupor. She was getting married. The card lay on the desk before him atop the ripped envelope dated June 1st in her elegant cursive, the envelope he had torn in his excitement at her correspondence. The neat printed lettering was a marked contrast to her scrawl below the main message.

You are cordially invited to the wedding of

James Potter and Lily Evans

June 14th, 1978 12:00PM

St. Peter's Church

4211 Godric's Hollow

_I though you deserved at least this. Don't come._

He couldn't help but remember the day where everything fell apart, his head beginning to pound as it always did when he recalled their horrible fight and his desperate attempt to apologize. He couldn't decide if he wanted to smash the bottle he held into tiny pieces or cry. He settled for both.

XX

His fisted hands trembled with suppressed anger as he stalked his way though the castle, leveling a dangerous glare at anyone who dared laugh at him. News travelled fast, everyone already knew what had happened down at the lake. Avery had found him earlier, when he had first run back into the building, red faced and thankfully with pants, but he had shoved the boy aside without listening to his plans for revenge. He had bigger problems. His anger at Potter ebbed away ever so slightly as he thought about _her_, she was so much more important.

He plopped himself down on the ground before the Fat Lady, who looked disapprovingly down at him before sniffing and turning the other direction.

XX

_May 29__th__, 1978_

_Dear Lily,_

_I want to see you again. I miss you. I know you're dating James, everyone does, and I hate it but… if it means I can see you again and we can just be friends again, I don't care. I really won't care. I miss you Lily. It's been a long two years without you. _

_Please. I need you back in my life. You're the only good in my life. You make me good. I can't be good without you there to remind me what's right. _

_I am a broken man, Lily. I've never had anyone care about me, I never had anyone like me, I've never had anyone adore me, but with your friendship, Lily, I can be good. I swear it. _

_Your __Friend__ (and nothing more),_

_Sev_

XX

A voice jolted him out of his morose thoughts as he sat on the painful flagstone.

"What are you doing here?"

For a second, he almost thought it was her but when his head snapped up he met the dirty blonde hair and hard brown eyes of Mary McDonald.

"I'm waiting for Lily."

"She doesn't want to see you."

"Don't care," he replied, his face set stubbornly. The anger was mostly gone now; the only thing left within him was desperation. "I'll sleep here if I have to, I don't care. I just need to let her know that I'm sorry."

Her eyes seemed to soften for a second. "She doesn't like your friends… but frankly I don't think that's enough. I'll tell her you're here, but I won't make her come outside. You messed up, Snape."

He couldn't hide the despair in his eyes.

XX

He caught the glimpse of red hair out of the corner of his eye and he spun around to see her standing there, in the middle of Diagon Alley, the summer before their final year.

He ran towards her, calling her name, screaming apologies for that day. He stopped in the street when his head felt as though it would be ripped in two.

She looked almost guilty as she turned on her heel and ran.

XX

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not interested."

"I'm sorry!"

"Save your breath. I only came out because Mary told me you were threatening to sleep here."

"I was. I would have done."

He watched nervously as Lily sighed, wrapping her arms around her dressing gown clad form. Her eyes snapped up and down the corridor quickly, registering the emptiness, before her slim hand reached out and grabbed Severus's, pulling him down the hall and into a deserted classroom. She closed the door with a resounding slam and placed a locking charm on the door.

"Well?" she said. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"You mean you're going to—"

"Yes, I'm going to listen, but just this once."

He wanted to fall to his knees and beg her forgiveness, but he knew that she wouldn't tolerate it. She would pity him. He didn't want her pity, he wanted her love. And if he couldn't have it, he would take her friendship as long as she never left him.

"I was humiliated," he began. "Hurt, and angry, and… humiliated. You don't know what it's like to be tormented by them day in and day out. The teachers think they're saints." She raised an eyebrow. "Well, not _saints_, but they think they're just pranksters. I went to Dumbledore once about their bullying, just once cause you told me to the first time when we just started Hogwarts. You know what he said? That it was harmless child's play! When Avery and Mulciber hurt Mary and the others, they got in so much trouble—"

"Sev, that's different," Lily said, her eyes growing sad. "Avery and Mulciber used Dark Magic—"

"So you're saying that just because Potter and Black use Light spells that it makes the harm that they inflict okay?"

She opened her mouth and sputtered for a few moments. "But… that… but Light Magic won't kill anyone!" She was trying to be indignant.

"Lily, you know magical theory. You know how much damage so-called _Light_ Magic can do. Don't insult yourself. Does the type of magic make any difference if someone is getting hurt? Is that what you think?"

She seemed to crumble into herself for a moment and he started to feel bad, but he held his resolve because he _knew_ that this was something she needed to hear. Slowly, she shook her had no.

"See? You're not!" he couldn't help the triumphant smile that grew on his face. "You're not saying that at all! Light Magic is usually used for good but it still can be very bad. The same can be said for Dark Magic, but most people don't know that because they just shy away from it. I don't, Lily. Don't you see? The only way to _defend_ against the Dark Arts is to _know_ the Dark Arts!"

Lily looked away, fidgeting with the ties on her robe the way he knew that she did when she was uncomfortable in having her views changed.

"But Sev," she began slowly, "not everyone is going to see it that way. They'll think you're evil and then what will they think of _me_—"

"You're going to leave me for your reputation?" She didn't look up at him for a moment, but when she did, her face blanched. He knew with that look that she most certainly would.

XX

Lacey Parkinson was sort of pretty but he never thought she would kiss him. But then she had pulled him in an embrace behind a suit of armor in the north wing and she was kissing him and her fingers wound though his hair and he _knew_ Avery had put her up to it to jolt him out of his misery but it was sort of working and helping him forget _her_…

He vividly saw another pair on hands winding through his hair, felt another pair of much softer lips against his. His eyes were fixed on green.

He pushed Parkinson away as he held his head cradled between his fingers, trying to assuage the shooting pain at his temples.

XX

He looked down at her as she stepped closer to him and at that moment, he was very scared. She was going to leave him. She was going to leave because she cared more about her reputation than her friendship and…

Her next action startled all thought from his mind as she leaned forward and her lips – _Lily's lips!_ – met his. His eyes widened as her hands wrapped around his neck and through a few strands of her hair and she was kissing him willingly so he just kissed her back and she pulled away after a few moments but it was so worth it…

XX

He curled up on his bed in the Slytherin Common Room, regretting the day with all his heart.

"I was. I would have done." A headache struck him as he thought. "I never meant to call you a Mudblood, it just—"

… Did he suddenly move down the hallway, mid-sentence?

… It hurt to dwell on it anymore. He must have been in front of the portrait the entire time. Anything else was impossible… Unless…

Pain struck him again and he lost all his thoughts.

XX

His head was still spinning from the surprise and happiness of the kiss when she pulled her wand out of her dressing gown and pointed it at him. Tears streamed down her face as she opened her mouth and spoke those words, her voice shaking so hard they were barely understandable.

"_Obliviate_."

…

She had her wand pointed at him and he couldn't remember why. He stared down the length of the swishy ten and a quarter inch willow wand, nearly crossing his eyes in an effort to see the slender tip that nearly rested on his nose.

Later, he would forget the wand completely because it hurt too much to think about it too closely.

"I never meant to call you a Mudblood," he began hesitantly, "it just—"

"Slipped out? It's too late. I've made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends—you see, you don't even deny it! You can't wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?"

He opened his mouth, beginning to protest, closing it when the confused though that entered his mind that he already had made his point. There was nothing more to say.

"I can't pretend anymore. You've chosen your way, I've chosen mine."

"No—listen, I didn't mean—" She cut him off before he could tell her how despite his desperation to fit in, he would _never_ join He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

"—to call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I be any different?"

Before he could utter a word to stop her, she ducked into the portrait hole and it slammed shut behind her with a resounding thwack.

He didn't know that she slid down the back of the painting, buried her head in her hands, and sobbed.

**XX**

_The Quidditch League Competition – Round 2 – "Bring me home or leave me be, my love in the dark heart of the night, I have lost the path before me, the one behind will leave me" – Ghost Love Score by Nightwish_

_All Sorts of Love Competition – Canon (Severus unrequited Lily)_

So this requires a bit of explanation, this fic is inspired by the movie Memento (see it!) and it's arranged so that the events in the middle occur at the end while the chronological "beginning" and "end" occur at the beginning. :D

This is my way of making Lily's actions a bit more understandable (if not more villainous) and also giving Severus a chance to explain himself.

Some of the dialogue between Severus and Lily was taken directly from The Deathly Hallows.

Please leave a review :)


	12. Doubled

_Just another moment in the day-to-day life of Victoire Weasley. Teddy/Victoire._

**Doubled**

**By silver-nightstorm**

**Words: 1089**

**XX**

When the alarm rang bright and early that morning, Victoire reacted with more violence than usual, practically punching the Muggle device that was gifted to her by her Aunt Audrey. It was a Tuesday in the middle of the summer and she had nowhere to be at 10am, but the alarm was ringing nonetheless. She thanked her lucky starts that Louis and Dom didn't know how to change the time on the alarm, least they wake her up at 5am or something else equally horrific. Not to say that 10am was acceptable, but it was the lesser of two evils.

Unable to fall back asleep after tossing and turning on the bed, Victoire dragged herself up and ambled into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth (but not in the shower, as her little brother did every morning, she thought it was uncouth) and walked to the sunny kitchen in Shell Cottage where she was greeted by twin looks of mischief.

"I'm going to ignore this," said Victoire with a playful frown. "After all, since I can use magic at home now it's a bit unfair for you two!"

Dom frowned and stuck her tongue out at her older sister before fleeing the room. Louis remained at the table, waiting patiently for Victoire to make breakfast.

"Dad's coming home late today," blurted Louis as a plate of scrambled eggs was set before him. "Mum's visiting Aunt Ginny so can Teddy come over?"

Victoire raised an eyebrow. "Dad loves Teddy, why does it matter if he's home when Teddy's here?"

Louis crossed his arms and gave his big sister a glare. "I'm fourteen, Vic. I know what you and Ted get up to." Victoire had the decency to blush. "But seriously. Have him over. I miss Teddy! And then you two can do you thing. Ugh." He shuddered. "Things I don't ever, ever, _ever_ want to know about my sister."

Victoire laughed and smiled fondly as she ruffled her kid brother's hair.

XX

Later that day, when Teddy finally arrived (to the joy of Dom and Louis) he agreed to entertain the two younger members of Victoire's family as she attempted to cook. While he charmed various things around the house to their amusement, showing off his trademark smirk as they marveled at the illusion of a dragon he conjured, Victoire decided to attempt to cook. After looking through the fridge and finding nothing but eggs and steaks, she gave up and flooed the Leaky Cauldron.

"Mrs. Longbottom!" she called without stepping through the flames. The kindly face of the blonde cook appeared in her vision. "Can I get four of your special over?"

"Nothing in the house to eat again, dear?" asked Hannah with a fond smile on her face. Young Victoire had been flooing her for food since she was a mere five years old.

"Well, nothing I want to eat," laughed Victoire.

Soon, she was sitting at the table with her siblings and Teddy enjoying Mrs. Longbottom's special stew. Dinner was finished all too quickly and the four of them settled down in front of their new television (a gift from Aunt Hermione). Halfway through the movie (which had to do something with a funny gold ring and elves), Dom and Louis dozed off and Victoire pulled Teddy upstairs.

When the door closed behind them in her room, she sighed and gave him the kiss she had wanted to give him all night, the one that wans't the friendly pecks she gave while around her family. She gave him the kiss that caused her to melt into his skin, giving into the obvious attraction that the two of them felt.

"We did good, didn't we?" he asked, after they parted for air.

"They like you," she said softly.

"Nah, I'm just fantastic with kids!"

She smiled. Everything was perfect.

XX

"Victoire! I'm home!"

"Shit, shit, shit!"

Victoire was panicking and he couldn't understand why. She broke away from his sturdy embrace where they were cuddled under the pale Beauxbatons blue of her downy comforters and paced up and down in front of the bed nervously running her hands through her hair while her shirtless boyfriend watched her with his trademark smirk, bemused.

"What's wrong, Vic? Your dad loves me."

She spun on him, fury lighting in her normally soft brown eyes. "D'you know how _furious_ he's going to be when he finds you here?"

"But he loves me!" insisted Teddy, morphing his currently blue eyes to be larger and puppy-like.

Victoire gifted him with a steely glare. "No father likes a half-naked boy in his daughter's bedroom."

Teddy's carefree grin dropped with startling speed and his eyes shrunk back to their normal size. "Well, when you put it _that_ way..." Without another word, he grabbed Victoire's bathrobe and dove under the bed, attempting to hide under the fluffy garment. Then, upon realizing he could still be seen from the door, he scrambled out and was halfway out the window before Victoire's small hand grabbed one of the belt loops on his jeans and pulled him back inside.

She crossed her arms and glared at him as he sheepishly ruffled his hair. Victoire's window was right above the window in the kitchen – the window her father would most surely see out of as he made his customary post-work coffee.

Teddy was getting increasingly concerned for his safety and the creak of a chair and footsteps on the stairs caused him to panic once more, this time trying to jump into Victoire's stuffed closet.

With a sigh, Victoire once again pulled her boyfriend back. "Are you a metamorphmagus or not?" she snapped, rolling her eyes. While Teddy abandoned his calm for panic, Victoire replaced her calm with reason.

"But if I change my features I'll still look like a guy. Your dad would still be upset."

Victoire raised an eyebrow and tapped a bare foot on her white carpet until realization dawned on Teddy's face and it paled instantly.

"There's no way. I refuse. What if I _get stuck_?!"

"Have you ever gotten stuck with pink hair?" said Victoire sarcastically. "But this is your call. My dad won't punch me, but I can't make any promises for you."

"Dammit..."

Teddy's explicative faded just as the door swung open and Bill Weasley appeared in the door of his eldest daughter's room. "How was your day?" he asked cheerfully, and made his way over to hug his bathrobe-clad daughter.

Victoire Weasley's jaw dropped open. Teddy Lupin's smirk looked strange on her face.

**XX**

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Competition – History of Magic – To the best of your ability, you are to Write a slice of life story, That is at least __1000 words__ long; try to keep the reader intrigued. – bathroom; Someone must brush their teeth while in the shower; Humor_

_The Quidditch League Competition – Round 2 – Chaser 1: "I give up, I give in To the whole of your skin (I give up, I give in Am I doing this again?)"_


	13. A Coffee Sometime

_It took three meetings until she finally acquired the coffee she was promised. Oliver/Parvati. _

**A Coffee Sometime**

**By silver-nightstorm**

**Words: 982**

**XX**

The first time she met Oliver Wood was in her third year at Hogwarts. Gryffindor had just lost their Quidditch match to Hufflepuff after Dementors had appeared at the pitch and Harry fell off his broom. Parvati was actually on her way to class a day after the game when she quite literally ran into him and fell on her bum.

Oliver had been going to the Hospital Wing every spare moment he had to check on his star Seeker. Gryffindor's Quidditch Captain was typically not clumsy. He was, however, absorbed with attempting to figure out how he was going to manage to win the House Cup when a shout of "Bloody hell!" jolted him out of his pondering.

Now Parvati Patil wasn't one to typically resort to expletives, but she couldn't help herself – she was a rather tiny girl and they had just gotten quite literally run over by one of the larger boys in the school. Not only was she surprised by her fall as she had been attempting to quickly write her Potions essay before arriving at the classroom, but her bum was also quite hurt by the sudden impact with the flagstones.

This incident, however, did not lead to a negative opinion of Oliver Wood. In fact, when he held his hand out to her and helped her up from the ground, she blushed at his kindness when she met his dark brown eyes and their proximity.

"I'm so sorry," he said once again, for what seemed to be the third time in the last few seconds. "I wasn't paying attention at all—"

She managed to compose her flustered self enough to hush him before he ran out of breath. "I wasn't paying attention either," she smiled. "But thank you for helping me up."

He deposited her papers in her hand (as he had hastily picked them up before she could do so) and they had begun to go their opposite directions before she stopped and turned and spoke over her shoulder before she could lose her courage.

"Gryffindor will definitely going to win the House Cup this year," she said, and he spun on his heel to face her. She smiled at his startled expression and turned, waving a goodbye over her shoulder.

XX

The second time she saw him was when she least expected it. She had just dueled with Greyback, vengefully driving him away from Lavender's prone form. With help from Seamus and Dean, she managed to levitate Lav's body to the safety of the Room of Requirement while the two boys covered her with a shield. In the peace and quiet of the Room, she shooed off the boys and did her best to bind and heal the gashes on her blonde friend.

When she had done all that she could without the help of Madam Pomfrey, she put a stasis spell on her friend in an attempt to slow her blood loss when the pathway to the Hogs Head opened up and he appeared.

She recognized him, but it took a few moments of frantic panic. It had, after all, been four years, and she had never really known him well but the Puddlemere United jacket that he wore was impossible to misunderstand. So she calmed down and put her wand away.

It was then that she noticed he was carrying brooms.

"What're you doing with those?" she asked, just as he shot a question back at her.

"Is she okay?" he said, gesturing at Lavender.

They both laughed awkwardly, and proceeded to answer at the same time.

"I'm not quite sure, I did my best but only time can tell now."

"I thought an aerial attack would be helpful so I got brooms."

They laughed again, the absurd amusement of talking at the same time helping them forget, for a precious moment, that a battle raged around them.

Eventually, he spoke (and she didn't). "Do... you want to help me?"

"Me?" she asked, rather bemused. "I'm just... I'm not very..." She shrugged.

"Why not?" he asked. "Can you fly? And can you fight?" She nodded. "Then come on, help me out!" They ran out of the Room, recruiting anyone they could find, heading to the top of the Astronomy Tower where they flew off to begin their attack.

Later, after the battle, when they were both sitting in the Great Hall and he attempted to heal the arm she broke falling off the broom while attempting to dodge a disarming charm, he finally confessed to her (turning beet red in the process) that he didn't actually know her name.

"Parvati Patil," she said with a smile.

"Oliver Wood," he replied. "Ah, we should get coffee sometime."

Her smile turned to a grin. "We should."

XX

The third time she saw him wasn't until 2005. She was writing a column for the Daily Prophet on whatever struck her fancy (primarily fashion, gossip, sports, politics, and Divination), when her boss approached her.

"You won't _believe_ the news!" she gushed. "Puddlemere's Keeper, that Oliver Wood fellow, he got into a fight with Flint of the Canons! You've _got_ to get an interview!"

"Oliver Wood, you say?" replied Parvati. "I knew him, once upon a time. He promised me a coffee."

"Really?! Well, that's fantastic! Redeem that drink, girly! Go, go, go!"

Parvati went his game that very night and when she stood in the throng of reporters fighting to get a word, somehow his eyes met hers and he grinned and he pushed through the crowd of flashing cameras and waving notepads until he stood in front of her.

She was still much tinier than he was and she had to crane her head back to look into his wonderful brown eyes.

"Hullo, Parvati Patil," he said. "It's been too long."

"Oliver Wood," she replied. "It most definitely has."

They finally got that coffee.

**XX**

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Competition – Defense Against the Dark Arts (Students are two write a story based on a duel; stories are to be no longer than 1000 words and no shorter than 500 words) – bloody hell, a character must break an arm, going to the hospital wing_

_The Hunger Games: Fanfic Style Challenge – Day 1 – peace, bemusement, "I knew him, once upon a time", astronomy, 982_

_Quidditch League Competition – Round 3 – Rarepairs – Choose a rare pairing (less than 2,000 stories in the archive under Romance, including M-rated fics) between two Gryffindors (Oliver/Parvati)_

_All Sorts of Love Competition – Crack Galore – Oliver/Parvati_

Please review cause that'd be awesome and all :3


	14. Charms

_Because sometimes, it's the simplest of things that motivate one to keep moving forward. For them, it was her bracelet. Draco/Astoria. _

**Charms**

**By silver-nightstorm**

**Words: 670**

**XX**

When his father passed away he didn't know where that left him.

It was 1999 and he had succumbed to a heart attack mere months after entering Azkaban, after the Malfoy money wasn't enough to bribe the newly instated Wizengamot. His life had been falling to pieces since the end of the war, but this had been it, that last straw, that nail in his coffin that doomed him to a miserable existence for whatever meager years he had left.

He was still in Hogwarts a year later. Most of his class had returned to redo their last year. Potter and Weasley were notoriously absent, choosing to jump right into Auror training. He attended because he had nowhere better to be.

He had taken to sitting at the border of the Forbidden Forest, a few feet away from the charred remains of Hagrid's hut. He never thought anyone would find him there and then one rainy day, as his eyes drifted closed under the drops of water sliding over his face, he suddenly felt the repetitive patter of the rain against his skin cease.

His eyes snapped open, alarmed as he was to be noticed, taking a few moments to register the yellow umbrella connected to the delicate charm-bracelet-adorned wrist of Astoria Greengrass.

His father had been gone for exactly a week when he first met, or rather re-met, her.

She had dyed her hair blonde after the war to match the shade that her sister had the day she had passed away. Her bracelet now sported a platinum snake charm with DG written in delicate script along the coiled scales. He supposed that she probably understood what he was feeling better than most. Unlike those who thought they had suffered in the war, she had actually truly lost someone close to her. So he didn't mind her company. He didn't let his arrogance bubble to the forefront as it typically did these days without warning of any sort. He simply let it be. And so did she.

It was another week of quiet companionship before she spoke. She had been staring off into the distance, and he had been staring at her, the one new thing among the familiar patches of burnt grass.

"We had a seaside house we used to visit at children," she said suddenly. "She's buried there because she loved the place. I never liked the shore, but I visit every weekend now. I… can't stand the idea of her being alone."

She was silent again. She wasn't waiting for him to respond. She was just… being.

"She gave me this bracelet when I was five." She held her slender wrist up, the sun glinting off of the many charms on the thin silver chain. "We had matching ones. Hers was gold, to match her hair. Mine is silver to match my eyes."

The wind blew around them, whipping her hair into her eyes. "They buried the bracelet with her, minus this charm." She tapped on the platinum snake. "I insisted on having it, to keep her close to me. I thought it would help me stay strong."

She turned to face him suddenly, her grey eyes meeting his, completely aware of his gaze. "How can I be brave when she's gone?" she said, so softly that he barely caught her words.

Before he could stop himself, he draped his arm around her slight form and pulled her close to him. "You're already being brave," he said, startling himself by the hoarse sound of his voice. "Seeing you continue to stand, even alone… it makes all my doubts about myself disappear too." They sat there, really together, for the first time in ages. The wind around them caused the charms to ring.

When he asked her out nearly a year later, he added a charm to her bracelet, a tiny green dragon. They continued to add charms to that bracelet for years because sometimes, it was the littlest things that motivated one to keep moving on.

**XX**

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Competition – First Year Final Exam – Angst; Draco/Astoria; 1999; Forbidden Forest; Caught; Heart Attack by Demi Lovato; Heart beats fast Colors and promises How to be brave How can I love when I'm afraid To fall But watching you stand alone All of my doubt Suddenly goes away somehow" A thousand years, Christina Perri; Frightened_

The Hunger Games: Fanfic Style Challenge – Day 3 – seaside, arrogant, "I… can't", charms, umbrella

All Sorts of Love Competition – Het

Reviews make me very happy :3


	15. Applicant TONKS, NYMPHADORA

_The Auror Applicant Review Board gets a sterling recommendation for applicant TONKS, NYMPHADORA. _

**Applicant TONKS, NYMPHADORA**

**By silver-nightstorm**

**Words: 870**

**XX**

Auror Applicant File

Applicant Reviewer: MOODY, ALASTOR

Applicant Name: TONKS, NYMPHADORA

School: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (House: Hufflepuff), Class of 1991

NEWTS:

Defense Against the Dark Arts – O

Potions – O

Transfiguration – E

Charms – O

Herbology – E

Astronomy – O

Ancient Runes – O

Other: Metamorphmagus.

XX

To the Auror Applicant Review Board,

As a paper applicant, TONKS is quite impressive. TONKS is the first Hufflepuff to apply to the Auror program in ten years, making her a standout candidate from the get go. In addition, she has managed to receive Outstanding marks in five out of the seven total NEWTS that she took, and she earned Exceeds Expectations marks in those. In addition, the private background check on her person and her family (conducted by myself, Auror MOODY) proves that she comes from the type of peoples that would make great Aurors. She has no record of misdemeanors in or out of school.

To top it all off, applicant TONKS is a Metamorphmagus, giving her an unprecedented advantage in all covert missions that involve disguises. Her ability to change her appearance to absolutely anything is unparalleled and involves no risk of discovery as posed by the time constraints on Polyjuice or other methods typically used by our division. She passed the Concealment and Disguise test without a single hitch, demonstrating not only her impressive abilities as a Metamorphmagus, but also her abilities in other back up methods of disguise that are commonly tested for in the procedure. Additionally, her knowledge of potions and antidotes are rivaled only by specialists in antivenin. Her aptitude in disguise is unparalleled.

Additionally, TONKS has shown to be one of great character, holding her own in the veritaserum tests as well as the torture scenario tests. She has also shown a fantastic ability to hold interrogations of her own, staying well within the Ministry's laws regarding human rights.

TONKS also shows a remarkable ability to hold her cool in unexpected scenarios. While most of our applicants duck and hide in the face of the Cornish pixie text (where hundreds of the little pests are released into the room with the applicant and many civilians, TONKS held her cool, calmly guided the civilians to safety, and also managed to subdue the pixies by creatively transfiguring the contents of their cage into candy to lure them back.

She has a vast field of knowledge that makes her a fantastic candidate except for one rather conspicuous problem.

Applicant TONKS proved herself to be a semi-adept tracker, able to quickly orient herself in unknown locations with the use of a simple Point Me spell. However, TONKS is the most uncoordinated, klutzy, and accident prone person to have ever graced the Auror Academy. She managed to trip over absolutely nothing while tracking the SUBJECT, only regaining her balance by using the Mobiliarbus spell to move a branch close enough to her hand to grab. However, in this process, she managed to break the branch off the tree, alerting the SUBJECT to her presence, only barely passing the test when she Obliviated the SUBJECT of the memory of her clumsiness.

Additionally, she has a knack for setting off chain reactions of accidents. With applicant TONKS, if one book in a library is knocked over, the entire collection (bookshelves included) will be on the ground before she could even say "Sorry".

But despite her clumsiness, TONKS is still a very adept applicant. She can hold her own in duels against some of our top operatives and has a vast knowledge of Defense that will prove to help her in the field. Though she is constantly clumsy, she is also constantly vigilant and can take care of herself and those under her care in the field. I have yet to find an applicant with the field awareness that applicant TONKS possesses and on that factor alone I would recommend her matriculation into the program. When considering all of applicant TONKS's abilities, it is obvious that she should be accepted into this program.

It is my professional recommendation that TONKS has all the potential to be a very capable Auror if it is possible to train clumsiness out of a person. However, I have seen this program succeed with even the most unlikely of candidates and I believe Tonks will succeed.

Constant Vigilance,

Alastor Moody

XX

Dear Miss Tonks,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the Auror program. Your abilities as a Metamorphmagus have impressed all of the board, and we would accept you on merely that factor. In addition, you received an impressive recommendation from one of our top, most respected operatives, Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody.

However, due to your marks on the Stealth and Tracking portion of the application, you will be required to take a mandatory program to improve in that area of expertise. Thankfully, your exceptionally high marks in Concealment and Disguise mean that you will not need to take any courses or additional training in that subject area.

We look forward to training you. Please report to general training the following Monday. Your mentor for the rest of your training will be Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody.

Thank you,

The Auror Applicant Review Board

**XX**

_The Quidditch League Competition – Round 4 (Captain) – Nymphadora Tonks_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Challenge – Second Year – Charms – Your story must consist of the charms: Mobiliarbus (moves objects with wand); Point Me (wand acts like a compass); and Obliviate (erases memories) – candy; cornish pixies; veritaserum_

Please leave a review, it'd mean the world :)


	16. Everyone's Type

_Somewhere in the course of her denial, a little part of her mind (the same part that insisted Mister Francis Delacour was everyone's type) admitted that she had most certainly been swept off her feet (because why else would she spend so much time on the subject?)._

**Everyone's Type**

**By silver-nightstorm**

**Words: 1088**

**XX**

Billie Weasley wasn't the type of girl to be swept off her feet. As the oldest daughter of a group of much too many girls (and the odd boy), she had a very straightforward definition of her reality and Mister Francis Delacour did _not_ fit with that definition. So when the charming blonde Wizard, seven years her senior and as French as they came, swept her off her feet, she chalked it up to his one-quarter-Veela and considered it as a fluke. Because there was no way she would fall for the man who competed in the Triwizard Tournament as the champion of Beauxbatons. He wasn't her type (though a little part of her mind insisted that he was _everyone's_ type) and he wasn't really into her so there was _no way_ she would ever be swept off her feet by him…

Somewhere in the course of her denial, a little part of her mind (the same part that insisted Mister Francis Delacour was _everyone's_ type) admitted that she had most certainly been swept off her feet (because why else would she spend so much time on the subject?).

XX

(in defense of Mister Francis Delacour, he hadn't meant to do any 'sweeping of feet', his only goal was to make a good first impression on the gutsy, shark-tooth-ear-ringed redheaded young woman who raised an eyebrow and told him in a no-nonsense voice that his English was 'absolutely ridiculous')

XX

When Billie Weasley returned to Gringotts the next day with the uncomfortable and unsure admittance that perhaps she did get swept off her feet, she encountered a still-English-challenged Francis Delacour who proceeded to ask for English lessons so as to not sound 'absolutely ridiculous'. Billie (despite her reluctance to remain around Mister Sweeper Of Feet) agreed (because the chance to giggle – LAUGH, not giggle, she didn't giggle – at his pronunciation would be worth the funny feeling in her tummy that always appeared) to meet him at the Leaky Cauldron that night for some Butterbeer and English.

XX

(in defense of Mister Francis Delacour, Billie was the only person in all of Gringotts who didn't look completely star struck when speaking to him. she was also the only person in the entire building who could string a coherent sentence together while he was turning up the charm, not that he needed to)

XX

Annoying younger sister number one, Charlene Weasley – dragon tamer, insisted on flooing Billie that night. When her elder sister moved their meeting up (and when Charlene figured the reason for the time change), Charlene couldn't wipe the grin off her face (even when Billie's face turned scarlet as she hotly insisted that it most certainly _wasn't a date, bloody hell Charlene, you're crazy, stop it!_).

(she knew it was _technically_ a date but damn it if she was going to admit it to Charlene)

XX

(Mister Francis Delacour, for one, had intended their meet up to be a date – though he did want to learn English as well – so awkward misunderstandings were vastly avoided, though awkwardness in general would still be present thanks to Miss Billie)

XX

She showed up to the Cauldron a full hour in advance, hoping to grab a few drinks to calm her nerves, only to discover to her chagrin that Francis Delacour was already there and waving her over with a charming grin on his sculpted blonde face (sculpted? where did that come from?!) (… could she describe a face as 'blonde'? though it was rather fitting where he was concerned…) so she had no choice but to let the grin she was trying to stop jump onto her face and practically skip over to where he sat at the bar (and Billie Weasley, renowned curse breaker, _did not skip_, ever). And when he bought her a Firewhiskey instead of a Butterbeer, she took a deep breath and gave into the sweeping and took a chance and didn't look back.

XX

(in defense of Mister Francis Delacour, he had booked a room at the Leaky Cauldron for his own sleeping, and not in any intention of wooing a Miss Billie Weasley into said room) (technically it wasn't quite his fault, since he had just been having a conversation with her with the pure intention of getting to know her better) (he just never thought he'd get to know her better in the manner that he happened to)

XX

(in defense of Miss Billie Weasley, she had been decidedly sober by the time she made any 'life altering decisions', like sleeping with a charming, blonde, French, quarter-Veela) (she did, however, wonder if redhead Weasley genes would be able to trump blonde Veela genes) (she thankfully wouldn't find out for a few more years)

XX

(Mister Francis Delacour, for one, was quite smitten with Miss Billie Weasley, so when she tried to scram the next morning in her embarrassment he managed to grab onto her wrist and insist that he wanted her as a friend no matter what, even if she didn't want them to be more) (he managed to duck her slap that she used to demonstrate that _of course_ she wanted to be more)

XX

Billie, for one, was rather embarrassed at her conduct. She didn't just sleep with any wizard that walked down the road. She wasn't Georgette (who though not quite _promiscuous_ wasn't the absolute virginal angel her twin Freddie was). But thankfully, Ronnie noticed her panic before the other members of the family registered it and managed to console her oldest sister.

And, more impressively, she managed to make Billie admit that she had no regrets.

XX

(Mister Francis Delacour had none as well, though he had a few other witches to avoid since he now was fully smitten himself)

XX

So Billie put on her game face and returned to Gringotts for work the next morning and discovered to her immense happiness that Francis hadn't turned tail and run (he was pleased she hadn't done so as well).

XX

(so began the most awkward courtship that Mister Francis Delacour had ever had the pleasure of being a part of – because the charming portion usually was quite easy for him, but Miss Billie Weasley was anything but, and added to her not-easy-ness was her very-awkward-ness – but he wouldn't trade it for anything in the entire world)

XX

Billie discovered with the birth of her eldest daughter that Weasley and Veela genes were both equally potent, and resulted in strawberry-blonde hair. Which was rather red, to be quite honest.

**XX**

_Quidditch League – Round 5 – Write a fic about Bill Weasley._

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Challenge/Competition – Second Year – Transfiguration - Your Fic must be about a gender-swap which means a character that is one gender in the books must be the opposite gender in your story. The reason for the switched gender does not have to do with transfiguration, however, Word: Bloody hell, Genre: Humor, Adjective: Hotly, Colour: Scarlett, Sentence: Take a chance and don't ever look back_


	17. The Little Red Werewolf Hunter

_In a world where Wolfsbane doesn't exist, Parvati Patil is the best Hunter of werewolves there is until a kind wolf makes her rethink all her beliefs. A sorta twist on little red riding hood. _

**The Little Red Werewolf Hunter**

**By silver-nightstorm**

**Words: 1162**

**XX**

"Parvati, you've got another assignment."

"What is it, mum?"

"More mopping up after their messes. A girl was bit by Greyback, but they didn't think she's transform. Lo and behold she did, so now they're in a bind and they need your help to take her down."

"Did she kill anyone?"

"No but she was damn close and they don't want to take any risks."

"That seems a little hasty."

"I'm afraid I can't judge. You _can_ say no to the job, remember that."

"No… I'll take it."

"Good. She's secluded herself in a hut in the woods, the exact location is marked here. Good luck."

"What's her name?"

"… are you sure you want to know?"

"Yes."

"It's Lavender Brown."

…

"Don't forget your cloak."

XX

She ran out the door wrestling herself into her red cloak, not letting herself think. She couldn't understand why she asked her mother to give her the name of the girl. The name made it so much more difficult. It was easy to kill wolves when they were just that – wolves. Nameless creatures too feral to control themselves. When those same creatures had names, they suddenly were human once more. They had identities, and families and friends and fears and wants and hopes and dreams.

Parvati had only made the mistake of knowing a wolf's name once. It was her very first kill, when she had still been training with Harry Potter. They had received a report of a wolf terrorizing a Muggle village in Scotland and Harry had told her to take care of it. She read through the entire file on the wolf. Her first mistake.

After that disastrous day, when Harry had Imperiused the wolf as she sobbed from the after effects of the Cruciatus, wand trembling, unable to cast the killing curse, she vowed to never learn another name.

That was ten years ago, when she had just turned of age. Now, she was older and wiser. She should have known better.

Today she had tripped up again.

But she stole herself and closed her eyes, feeling the familiar sensation of squeezing through a tube and opened her eyes in the middle of a forest. It took only a few moment for her to regain her bearings and she was off down the path.

Her cloak did little in ways for camouflage, but the red velvet was warm and the chill breeze didn't sit in her bones. And the cloak was where her name came from – The Little Red Werewolf Hunter. Just the cloak sent wolves into panicked fear. She didn't even need that opening to end them.

She jogged lightly down the path, the rhythmic crunching of leaves under her boots lulling her into an almost-stupor that she was jolted out of when the hut suddenly appeared before her.

Even hut was a too generous description for the _thing_ that sat in front of her. The straw walls, if they could be called that, were barely standing and the roof was more hole than cover. Various plants grew around the hut, stabilizing it more than the actual architecture.

Parvati drew her wand and stepped cautiously into the hut. There was barely room to move around, the space mostly occupied by a large bed. A figure slept on the rickety object, completely covered by a thick but ragged comforter.

She should have stood right there, where she could see the comforter rising and falling from the wolf's breath, and simply spoken the two words that would have ended everything, the two words that would have been inescapably simple. She should have but the name "Lavender Brown" was haunting her and she _couldn't_ just kill this girl without even seeing her face. So she stepped forward and pulled the comforter back and then her fingers grew numb and her wand dropped from her hand.

Parvati was a realist. After the same wolf that attacked this girl had turned her twin, she hadn't hesitated to quarantine her. She had even steeled herself to kill her sister if need be, but thankfully it hadn't come to that. She knew what was expected of her as a Hunter. She knew what her responsibilities were. But this woman threw her off guard (because she certainly wasn't a girl, that was for sure).

She was completely nude under the covers, goosepimples rising all over her body at the sudden exposure to the air. Her hair was a golden blonde, the gorgeous curls draping over her. Her pink lips were a perfect bow, and her lashes fluttered against her cheek.

Three gouges began on her left cheekbone, angling downward. One passed over her nose before ending, while the other nicked her beautiful lips. The other stretched down to her chin.

But somehow, as Parvati stood there frozen, this woman was still beautiful.

She collapsed on the ground and sobbed because she just couldn't kill her, this beautiful woman with a name. This scarred, hurt woman, hurt by the same wolf that almost took her sister from her. She couldn't do it. She _wouldn't_.

Lavender Brown awoke to the sobs of a strange woman and without donning clothing, without even questioning strangeness or the wisdom of her decision – the woman's presence, the unmistakable red cloak, the _danger_ – she wrapped Parvati Patil in her arms and held her close.

The tiny, dark haired witch just cried harder.

The beautiful, blonde werewolf just held her until her sobbing ceased.

"Why are you being kind to me?" asked Parvati finally, when she could speak without hiccoughs.

Lavender fixed her brown eyes on the woman in her arms. "Because you're a person and every person deserves kindness."

"You know who I am," she retorted. "You know what I'm here for."

"I may be a monster, but I will never be monster enough to not comfort the sad."

Parvati took a shaky breath and looked at the door she had walked in. Lavender – the _wolf_ – seemed to know ever button that she needed to push, ever weakness that Parvati never knew she had. She knew everything.

And then her eye caught a purple flower with a cylindrical helmet on a stem of dark green leaves curling around the doorframe. Her eyes widened and inspiration struck her and she jumped up and raced to the plant.

"Wolfsbane!" she whispered almost reverently.

She knew the name couldn't be a coincidence. She knew there must be some truth to the myth. She knew she had 27 days until the full moon.

She had 27 days to find a way to cure the woman she had fallen in love with.

XX

"Parvati, you've got another assignment."

"What is it, darling?"

"Another boy was bitten and they don't think he'll transform but they want to be safe anyway. Can you whip up another batch?"

"I've got another right here."

"Good. He's secluded in the Ministry. They're expecting you."

"What's his name?"

"It's Colin Creevey."

…

"Don't forget your cloak."

**XX**

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Challenge – Second Year – Defense Against the Dark Arts – Write a fic that contains the three unforgivable curses – war; a character must fall; violence; attractive_

_The All Sorts of Love Competition – Femslash_

_The Quidditch League Competition – Round 6 – Write a 'Fairy Tale Retelling' fic (Alice in Wonderland)_

Lavender/Parvati – Little Red Riding Hood, with Lavender as the Blonde Misunderstood (Were)Wolf, and Parvati as Little Red Riding Hood: Werewolf Hunter


	18. A Theory

So since summer has technically been over for me for a couple of weeks, I'm calling it a day, and turning it in. This is the last installment of this collection, thanks for sticking with it :D

_Kelly Merrill has a theory about Oliver Wood and Draco Malfoy, and she goes into full reporter mode to get the scoop. _

**A Theory**

**By silver-nightstorm**

**Words: 1066**

**XX  
**

"Mister Malfoy! Mister Malfoy!"

The reporter, a tan woman with clashing blonde hair in a twist at the back of her neck, stuck her wand in the blonde's face, the amplifying spell causing it to screech with the rapid change in location, almost taking his eye out in the process.

"Mister Malfoy, what are your opinions on your upcoming match against Puddlemere United?"

"Yes, how does it feel to be facing your former school rival, Oliver Wood?"

Draco Malfoy had to laugh at that one. "Wood wasn't my rival," he smirked. "Didn't you _write_ the news? Potter and I couldn't see head to head, Wood's rival was Flint."

"But you and Flint will both be facing his team in this upcoming match. Do you think the old rivalry will spark up again?"

"Between those two?" He laughed out loud. "Obviously. And I look forward to it."

Cameras flashed as he sauntered away.

XX

"Mister Wood! Mister Wood!"

The reporter who had questioned Draco Malfoy earlier that day practically tackled the burly Keeper for Puddlemere United, a feat that if he had performed successfully would have probably landed her a new job.

"Do you have any comments on your scuffle with Marcus Flint on the field this evening?"

Oliver Wood's normally smiling face turned sour. "No. And I'd like to keep it that way, thanks."

"Is it true that you broke his nose?"

"No comment."

"How about that you dislocated his shoulder? And that if it wasn't for Draco Malfoy pulling you back that you'd have pummeled him to death?"

There was a tick in his jaw this time.

"No. Comment."

The spots of light from the camera flashes were overwhelming, and he held his hand up in front of his face to avoid getting blinded.

"I have nothing to say. Now, if you don't mind, I have training early tomorrow. I would like to get home."

XX

"Mister Malfoy! Mister Malfoy!"

He turned around with a tolerant grin to greet the crowd of reporters. He didn't say anything, merely raising an eyebrow, conveying his impatience at their delay of questioning.

"Is it true that if you hadn't pulled Oliver Wood off of his rival Marcus Flint yesterday that he would have pummeled Flint to death?" The questioner was the same reporter who spoke to him before his game against Puddlemere, only this time the woman's hair was down in blonde waves.

Once again, Draco Malfoy laughed. "Though you seem to have gotten the 'rivals' part right this time, you're sorely mistaken. Wood is an honorable guy. He would have done some damage to Flint – the man deserves it at times, he can be a bastard – but he wouldn't have killed him. Wood _is_ an honorable man, I assure you. I just thought I could save Flint a black eye or two by jumping in."

"Do you have any resentment towards Wood now for putting your teammate in the hospital?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Honestly, Flint provoked it. He made some ridiculous accusations." He smirked. "If Marcus can't take what he deals out, he doesn't deserve to act the way he does. Oliver Wood just reacted the way he was supposed to be manipulated into acting."

XX

"Mister Wood! Mister Wood!"

He almost spit out his coffee and dived under the table. In fact, he was halfway under the table before Percy's hand stopped him from completing his hasty journey.

"Don't be camera shy, Wood!" shouted a patron at the little coffee shop.

"What do you have to say in response to Draco Malfoy's idea that you were manipulated into attacking Flint _by_ Flint himself?" It was the same woman who questioned him after his fight with Flint. She wore her hair in a neat bun this time, and he couldn't help but think that he'd seen her somewhere.

Wood shrugged and mopped up the spilt coffee from the table while Percy attempted to force a smile as his newspaper was pushed to the side in favor of a camera. "Sounds like a thing Flint would do."

"So you're agreeing that it's easy to manipulate your emotions? Is it wise for you to play a competitive sport when you're so easily angered?"

"I'd like to see you keep your cool around Flint when he accuses you of sleeping with his girlfriend."

"Did you? Sleep with his girlfriend, that is? Did you sleep with Pansy Parkinson?"

"Of course not. I was with Percy at the time she was with Wood, and she's not my type anyway."

"Why did you and Percy call it off? Mister Weasley, would you care to comment?"

Katie Bell rolled her eyes. "I'm not his type. We're better off as just friends."

"And what _is_ his type?"

"He prefers blondes."

XX

"Mister Malfoy! Mister Malfoy!"

He saw her face and tried to avoid her, the persistent tan and blonde reporter, but she followed him on his detour into the alley and managed to grab the corner of his cloak before he Disapparated.

He forced a smile and turned to face her. "Miss Reporter… I'm afraid I don't know your name."

She rolled her eyes. "I didn't expect you to, even though we were the same year at Hogwarts. I'm Kelly Merrill, reporter for the Daily Prophet."

Malfoy stared at the woman, absolutely confused. He still couldn't place where he'd seen her before. "What house were you in?"

"Hufflepuff."

"And why are you following me so closely?"

She grinned and winked at him. "I'm testing a theory of mine!"

Malfoy smirked. "You're fortunate I don't mind."

"I haven't told you what my theory is yet," she laughed.

"I'm not quite sure I want to hear it."

He moved to leave but spun back to her. "Did you have something you wanted to ask me?"

"Oh, yes actually!" she said. "Were you aware that Oliver Wood and Percy Weasley were no longer dating?"

Draco Malfoy smirked. "Yes, I was."

XX

"OH MY GOD I WAS RIGHT!"

Draco Malfoy drew away from Oliver Wood's kiss to face the tanned, blonde, Kelly Merrill. "That's not a very professional reaction," he said, completely deadpan. Next to him, Oliver tried to contain sniggers.

"As an 'untrustworthy' reporter, I expect you to do your duty and break the news to the Prophet," laughed Oliver.

"My theory though! I'm right!"

Oliver and Draco looked at each other fondly. "That you are," they said together.

**XX**

_The Quidditch League Competition – Round 7 – Captain – Write either Percy/Draco or Oliver/Draco_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Challenge/Competition – Second Year – Herbology – Write about an unknown or unloved Hufflepuff student. Be sure to include the following words: Care; Fortunate; Untrustworthy. – haste, someone must rant, shy_

Please leave a review, it'd mean the world :)


End file.
